Dear old light,
old "what-if",
old "The One",

I wish I could remember more about our trip to Chicago. I think that I was so lost in the sheer lovesickness of it all. The long long days spent in that busy city, and the nights that I swear I could feel God inside me when we made love in our dreams.

If I had maybe paid a little more attention to the way you stared out at the lake and waited for the tide to take you, or maybe if I had taken more notice of the way your mouth didn't smile all the way, we'd be a different part of our lives right now. I thought I was the only one. I thought I was the only one.

I've asked the question so many times it's like the thought never leaves, but why did you keep on persuading me that I was your sun and moon when she was lingering on the back of your tongue while I kissed you with too much hunger and too little love? You should have left me alone, should have left me to starve on the side of my dimly lit road. But if I remember correctly, you devoured me with just as much greed as my body was willing to give.

I'm.....not as bitter. As I used to be. But that doesn't mean I'm not bitter at all. "I forgive you" would sound sweet coming out of my mouth except if I gave you that, you'd keep pulling more from the pits of my stomach and my heart. Or maybe I'd just keep throwing it up.

With some sort of forgiveness,
Claire
*(past regret)