I feel like a rare species. Like maybe I belong to a class or phylum of organism that are supposed to be… I hate that word that I have to use. You abandoned me. I’ve written to you, 12 years and still you can’t.. No. You refuse to find me. I’ve lost weight for you. I’ve straightened my hair for you. I’ve deprived myself for you. I’ve loved and lost for you. I thought I met you, seen your face in my visions, only to be made a fool of. Then I saw the light, loved myself from within, meditated, and dedicated my life to me and only me. But my heart aches for you. An emptiness inside that no amount of self love can fill. I’ve cried out to you in my sleep, a nameless entity with a blurred face in my dreams. Except that one fraction of a minute when your face became clear as water. Now that I think about it.. It was probably something I ate too late, the night before. Tell me. Send me a sign that you don’t exist and I’ll stop writing you every year. I’ll become a widow to a ghost whom never made it to human fruition. Burn the idea of you on stationary and watch the ashes melt in water. Tell me. Tell me. I’ll stop.
Sincerely,
Your Wife That Never Was
Lady Interrupted 