Dear *****,
It was harder saying goodbye to you this time than it was two years ago. I promised myself I would cherish and enjoy every moment we had together, but we have both learned that life keeps no promises, even the ones we make to ourselves.
I don't know whether I can deal with the fallout from the giant thermonuclear weapon of mass destruction that would detonate the moment my friends and family found out that after all this time you still hold my heart in a grasp from which I so unsuccessfully have tried to wrench in the interest of self-protection. I wish it had worked. I have never told you this, but I moved clear across the country mostly so I could get away from your proximity and not lead myself into the temptation you present.
It sure backfired, didn't it?
Now I realize I would rather be beside you in a nuclear winter than a falsely secure summer.
Here we are, two years later, and your life has slapped you back into humility in many ways. As for me, I'm not the same immature brat that left you behind, and someone more benevolent and decisive than you loves me, and I wish more than anything I could return his love in the same way and be as patient with his faults as he is with mine, but it's becoming painfully obvious that you are the one who holds my heart. If you knew him, you'd tell me to go to him because you'd think it was best, that you're too fucked up and ruined by the pain your own ex has caused you.
I can't put the image of you sleeping peacefully after we've exhausted each other out of my mind. We can be lazy together anywhere, it seems, and this time it's me that has the nasty habit of falling asleep on your shoulder while watching movies.
The choice lies with you whether these transitory pieces of our space-time fabric intersecting grow into the something enduring I desire, but I can't tell you that, I tried to explain it to you once but you called me a hippy

and you'll never read this because you're too technologically inept even to find internet porn.
But maybe in a couple weeks when you're back, you'll read it into my eyes, if you haven't already. I know it's about as improbable as any dream I've ever had, but to paraphrase the Red Queen, I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Here, we can watch a radiant sunset together instead of dreading the sunrise like we used to. I'll wear your favorite red dress and let my hair fall into its curls the way you love it, if you promise not to let either of us fuck it up this time.
I miss you and there is so much more to say, but I'd rather lay with you in silence and stillness, and if we have to face a more formidable obstacle than being on opposite coasts and my vision never comes to life, then I hope I will be able to look at your lessons in love with gratitude and reverence.
Thank you, baby, and if the fabric of this chaos in which we exist wills it, I will see you soon.
With all my heart,
your favorite blondie.
