Dear Diane,
introverted
beautiful,
underappreciated Diane.
your beauty glows
underneath the mountain
in the crystal lake of which
your inner you go to rest.

your parents treat you,
in a way too familiar,
the toxicity choking you
to the point that you scream.
life has gone to ****,
yet your pride wants them to say
that you are good, little darling
and mommy and daddy love you that way.

despite the pain,
the mental ball and chain
that they put you through
time and time again,
those simplest little words
make you forget everything.

you gathered the courage,
to leave given the chance,
found an eccentric romance
and a job not many would say
are in their bucket lists
of things to accomplish one day.
nonetheless,
you find a small portion of happiness
in the acknowledgment
of knowing your worth
is far beyond a bag of chips.

when you get this letter,
probably written in red,
know that which each syllable
sheer admiration and aspirations
are meant to be said
and that you deserve so much better.
as you slip into bed
with a sip of Dom Perignon,
typing away
the ideas of your new book,
I could go on and on
in my own little tidy nook.