Dear Ash. I should have left you when we started fucking in bed. I knew you’d cheated on me the second you walked in the door, but I’ve never been able to figure out how I came upon the information. Dear Ephraim. I wish you’d been jealous when you saw someone else’s marks on my neck. Dear Ash. Are you still having sex with teenagers?
Dear Eric. I still write you letters but I can’t find a postage stamp infused with enough magic to make them reach you. I wish that you’d gotten to use your next plane ticket. There were never enough words to fill the emptiness of our Skype calls. Distance is a motherfucker. Dear Norm. I’m glad you got sober, but if you don’t stop sending me love letters I’ll report you to the police. Dear Jake. They told me it would be a vicious cycle. They were wrong. Dear Steven. I still think of you and the day you left for Thailand. If I’d had enough stamina to wait out the year I think we’d still be lovers.
Dear Roy. Remember when I drank enough absinthe to fill a swimming pool? It was the best New Year’s Eve of my life. Was that because everyone thought the world would disintegrate into chaos on the first day of the century? Or was it because I loved you? Dear Jim. Your cock was too big for me, but it sure was beautiful to look at. I’d take another day in your hotel room if it were offered to me.
Dear Ty. That night when I felt the wire digging into my back and your tongue digging into my mouth I thought the red moon would last forever. If I’d seen the warning label stuck to the back of your neck I wouldn’t have kissed you against the fence that night. Dear John. I thought I was trouble but it was you.
Dear Derek. I still wake up dizzy when I dream of you. On those days, I haunt my home wondering what it would have been like if you’d chosen me instead of her. I’m prettier than she is, and I’m grateful for that. It makes me feel avenged when I see your toddlers, who are far more beautiful than I have ever been. I’m also grateful that you’re happy. Dear X. I wish I remembered your name, but I don’t regret the copious amounts of pot that made me forget it in the first place.
Dear Tom. You didn’t know me, but that didn’t stop you from holding onto me like a vice. When you first told me you loved me in my mother’s garden I didn’t know you meant you were ready to start having sex with other women. If I’d never reciprocated those words would you have remained faithful? Dear Steven. I don’t know how to forget you.
Dear Hugo. For years, I’ve tried to find the spot on the beach where we buried your broken promises. I keep hoping that if I find it, I can go back to the day you proposed. I still look at your photographs. They’re as worn as the jersey I stole from your closet—the one I wear every night when I go to sleep. 10 years is long enough to murder a piece of clothing, but somehow this one still lives on. If I was your god I would make you forgive me. If I was my god I would cure every mistake, every unspoken word, every day I didn’t join you in your studio while you painted me from a picture instead of from life. Dear Tyron. Fuck you.
Dear Ashley. I’m still grateful I left you. Dear Eric. I still undress in front of the window sometimes because it makes me feel as though you’re almost tangible enough to touch. I bought myself a red dress yesterday because I knew that you would like it. Dear Tarron. I’m still adding joy to the life you saved. I’ve never been able to find sentences perfect enough to thank you. I have tried to pick them out of the sky like stars but the planets are too big to fit into my hands.