Letters on the Wind: The Boy
… I think of you often. The way you used to mean so much, yet gave so little. The way you drew me in, made me want to morph into something different, altered my perception, changed my soul.
Your heart didn’t know what your words did to me — Did your mind? I was a passing fancy — An object to enjoy as long as possible before tossing me off into the wind. At the time, you loved me… Maybe? Maybe — Maybe just snippets of me. Now, years later — I simply don’t know.
Long after I ceased to exist for you, I still remember what you felt like. Your scent. Your swagger. You… as you appeared to me in your tortured glory…
