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Possessed Angel
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I wonder if you go by Zoe now? I have a daughter with that name now, actually.
It's been like 20 years! Right?! I have so much to catch you up on. I want to make you a mixtape. I listen to music now. My wife made me start a playlist and I just added songs I liked, and eventually I found a part of myself I had lost. I know what kind of songs I like now, how to feel through music.
Music I think you'd like. Or find weird.
My wife is awesome. She says she's cool with us sexting, so long as she gets to read the transcripts, lol
I thought a about you a lot. Not all the time or anything, but more often than I tried to write. That was always true, though, wasn't it?
I can't remember where I left off, sharing my life with you, my imaginary friend. I don't remember what I've told you, I mostly only remembering apologizing. I still have all your letters. I didn't try hard enough to keep them, for how precious they are to me.
You were aggressively real in a time of my life of derealization. I don't remember everything that happened to me, even now, but I remember recognizing flavors of your pain already on my tongue.
I worked so hard to keep you away from the bad things in my life, and sometimes that meant not being able to emote to you when you needed validation. Most of the things in my life were bad things. I just couldn't have my parents over hear, ask questions, ask about you. They would have loved hurting you, too.
I remember making you promise me a dance
On some future night
In an empty parking lot
Headlights illuminating our feet
CD player skipping
Stammering
A slow, sad dance
A brief warm touch
But I don't remember if I've told you all of my siblings names. Isn't that wild?
Anyway, I just like to check up on you, see how your doing, hoping you're still alive. Isn't that so romantic, though? And tragic? It's just like how we met, me reaching out to you, hoping and asking you to still be alive, because you were so beautiful and so sad and so hurt and so raw and real and tragic and I just wanted to cradle you in my world and keep you safe.
I worshipped you. I still have your all your artifacts for the alter. My love for you was passionate and dark and taught.
And it just feels good, every few years, to know you are still alive. Even if all I can find are the scratch marks left by a particularly hard day.
I hope to hear for you. It's always so good to hear from you.
Love,
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