letter twenty one

Dear Love, part II

There are so many things I want to say.
It is difficult even to begin.

I wrote letters to you before, care of your sons. I signed my name with your name.
Sometimes you wrote back. When you didn’t, I cried.

Sometimes I am afraid of you.
Afraid that you aren’t real.
Afraid that you are.
Afraid because you left me.
Afraid because I left you.
Afraid that you won’t return.
Afraid because I don’t know how to return.
Afraid of the power you yield–the ties.
(From simply touching/talking.)
Afraid because I need you so much.
Afraid because when my favorite love-son left,
everything else left too. All of the good parts of me.
Afraid that I can’t get those good parts back.
Afraid that my carved out heart can’t be refilled.
Afraid when I meet someone new.
Afraid because they are not old.
Afraid of beginning’s sweetness and vulnerability.
Afraid of sharing secrets, stories, scars.
Afraid from not knowing how much to share.
Afraid of saying too much or too little.
Afraid I can’t get it just right.
Afraid that when you come I won’t recognize you.
Afraid your new hair cut will confuse me.
Afraid even of kindness, and happiness.
Can I trust them?
Can I trust you?

Your daughter


About danarose

Textbook ENFP, if you're into that stuff (I am SO into that stuff). I love mountains and the ocean and my largest ambition in life is getting all of the people I love to live on the same block, to cook dinner, and talk with them every night.
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