Querida,

Here is my drunk truth.

I don't remember your face,
because I never truly looked at you.
I don't remember the warmth of your body in my arms;
because I never wanted to hold you.
I don't know your name,
because I didn't name you.
I don't think of you often,
because there's nothing to reminisce about.
I don't pray for you,
because God left me a long time ago.
Nonetheless,
I hope you don't cry because of me.
I hope you don't question yourself because of me.
I hope you are not lost because of me.
But most of all,
I hope you don't know of me.