Thunder and Loving Someone

“She pulled the love letters you wrote for her out of her drawer last night. She didn’t read them, she didn’t have to; she already knew all the words.

She knew the watermark in the middle where your tear dissolved, had traced it with her pinky. She knew the creases of the pages that led like fault lines to your grammar mistakes and through your messy cursive. She knew the place in the corner where you signed your name on a slant sloping downwards, as if your hand was tired with the decision of ending the letter. She knew your commas, she knew your meanings and most importantly, she knew the spot you scratched out a four-letter word you never spoke out loud.

She held the letters in her hand and looked up at the sky through the window of her apartment. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it reminded me of wings. I could see the memories swim through her eyes like a movie screen. I saw the day she pressed her thumb into the hollow of your collarbone and swore she could feel your heartbeat. I saw the time her tears painted her face like watercolours she was drowning in, and I watched you change her eyes from cloudy to brilliantly bright. I saw you make love to her and watched as she clawed your back, trying to get closer than she ever possibly could. I watched you watch her do this, and I saw your uncaring gaze as it shifted.

She sat by the window for a long time, letters in hand. She did not cry, and I believe it’s because she didn’t have it in her. She was so goddamned tired you see – tired of you, tired of me and tired of everything.

She cut your letters up like snowflakes and I could see starlight shining through the holes in the pages. When I squinted, I saw the light shine through the holes she had made through her body too. And you might tell me she did it because she was over you, but I know better. She did it because you were the best part of her, and she had to cut you away like an infected tree has to strip itself of unhealthy limbs in order to live again.

She pulled the love letters you wrote for her out of her drawer last night. She didn’t read them, she didn’t have to; she already forgot all the words.”

– Watching the girl you love love someone else


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