I've been unpacking old things and I found a letter I had written to you.

Most likely the last letter I ever
wrote to you.

It was tucked in between newspapers
and clippings of some of the writing I had done
over time.

Even though it's been almost ten years,
reading those words
and seeing how gutted I was
by what you did then

makes me feel those feelings all over again.

This is why it's so hard
to look back on my old writings.

or really,

anything I've ever written before.

After reading the 3 page letter I had written to you,

and noticing that it was

tear stained,
written in two different types of pen,
and folded several times

it proves

I had read and re-read it several times
before ultimately deciding
to never give it to you

I realized I never want to be that sad again.

When I searched you on instagram,
I could see that I am still blocked.

Only a small picture of what you look like now,
a window into the unknown.

I tucked the unsent letter into my scrapbook of you.

A scrapbook I'm not even sure I want to hold onto any more.

But I do.

Because I still remember the smell of your breast.
Your hair.

The feeling of your eyes on me.

You forgot it so easily.

Moving on is impossible.

Forgetting is something I hope for.

But I wont.

You will always be my could have been muse.

Even though I am no longer in love with you.