Post Meridiem

2:52

Monday

I'd like to write an 'apology' letter, but I don't have anything to 'apologize' for. I don't want to 'apologize'. I should write an 'apology' letter, but I won't write an 'apology' letter. Maybe I'll just write an explanation letter.

June 26, 2014

Dear,

When I said I didn't love you, I wasn't lying. I meant it then and I mean it now. I know you were 'hurt', I know you were 'upset' when you heard me--I saw you flinch, you know--but, c'mon, you know me as well as I know you, I'd never say something I didn't mean. But I honestly didn't mean to kill you. No, when I said it, it was true, but it wasn't meant to be malicious and it wasn't meant to be mean; it was just meant to be. But then it wasn't; then you died with my words wrapped around your throat. I'm sorry, dear, those words weren't supposed to kill you, but they did and I still don't love you and I'm sorry. I'd like to say I love you now (because it sounds better than to say I never did and I never will) but I can't because I know if I said it now it'd be because of grief and love from grief is lovely self-hate trying to patch things up with the dead. So, I'm sorry you're gone now, dear, and I'm sorry we'll never know if we were meant to be.

I guess this was an apology letter.

Sincerely.