Dearest Malik,
I hope you remember me. I hope you remember the most prominent of my characteristics, jealousy.
I hope you remember the way you so often called me your little earthquake. I hope you remember the way I liked to cut myself with the things I broke.
You always knew tears were my favourite aspect in a person.
It's a shame you met me during the superlative stages of my rotting existence. But then again, it was the same for you wasn't it?
You found comfort in my corruptness. And warmth in my thighs.
You had a four bedroom house and two children. Yunis was nineteen and Zara was six. Your wife owned a Honda and you owned a Range Rover. Your kitchen was orange and green and your mother in law hates you.
You always said you wished Sandra was more like me. But I always told you that wishes were poisonous.
And you didn't believe me. You laughed and told me to stop pretending to be wise to impress you.
I know you remember that Malik. Because the same day I sent your wife pictures of you with your tongue in my vagina.
Your tongue was always more gratifying than your dick, Malik. If that offers you more consolation.
And the funniest thing is, Sandra, with all her threats and scowls didn't let you go. She held onto you as you held onto me.
And I persisted to wreck both of your happiness' simultaneously. Because you mocked me.
I also fucked your son, Malik. His dick was small and he was far too much of a nervous wreck but you know that already don't you?
Since I recorded it for you and your wife and sent it to you as a Halloween gift. Christmas was far too cliché.
Your wife was haunted by me. The nameless girl with the pretty pussy and the long legs.
And you were obsessed with me.
But even obsessions became boring. And you had a chronic illness which ensured you were forever cursed with boredom.
You could not be engaged for too long.
And your cold shoulders were the warmest thing you ever offered to me.
Happy fucking Anniversary, you sad prick.
YOU ARE READING
bitter narratives.
Nouvelles"you liked the way my skin emulated the colour of soil" she was the girl with the dark brown skin, with an even darker entente with love. « a series of letters to the haunting lovers that forgot her. »
