Dear Michael,
I love you. More than you'd ever know. This immense pain I feel for you. Our love was nothing like the books I've read. We're the modern day Kurt and Courtney! But without the drugs and the death. I'm glad you're famous. I cannot describe my everlasting happiness for you. I hear about your success and I think to myself, "I used to date him. I was- and still am in love with him." And I wish we never broke up. Theres not a day where I don't think about you. You're bewitching looks, your hair, the way it looks rough and dry but when you play with it at three in the morning when you can't sleep and the feel agony engulfing you is when it feels truly magnificent. You were my rock Michael. Your passion for music, the way you described everything in full detail. The way you looked at me was venomous at times but when you described me in your songs I was this sinful, stimulating, angelic princess you were madly in-love with. Our fights broke plates, walls and myself. My passion. Your passion. Our passion.
When you broke up with me at first I felt free. I was on cloud 9. The first day I needed you I broke down in the apartments. I was getting the mail. You'd always get it because I was never good at getting the key to fit properly. I tried 20 times before falling on the floor in a grievous matter. I needed you Michael. You're out on a world tour probably thirsting over the first decent girl that impassioned you.
The first day I met you honestly killed me. The set of the music video. That distressing song. "I want to breathe you in like a vapour. I want to be the one you remeber." I don't believe that you remember me.
I need you Michael Gordon Clifford. I know you don't need me.
I love you Michael,
Katrina Iris Cobain
