Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

If I ever loved you, just know that I still do.

When the rain taps at my window, and I fall asleep watching the tiny flame of a citrus scented candle,

I will nearly always dream of how you used to speak to me in the words of all your favorite songs.

And it just made sense because, even now, your voice is music to my ears.

Dear Reader,

Though our paths no longer run parallel to each other the way they did when we would play tetris with our fingers,

I still admire your footprints in the sand as though you were holy, and I, devout.

It seems as though it was always cold when I met you, but somehow the heat between us was like summer,

and these days I still blush when I think of all the tender places our lips have traveled together.

Dear Reader,

My skin may have been worn thick and callous and hard, but like my thoughts, my heart remains soft,

as though to say, "Welcome home. Here, you can rest."

I'll always keep space just for you and every heavy word of every vulnerable conversation.

Dear Reader,

It's not that I wish to drudge up the past, but rather, that I wish to hang it on my walls because, to me,

you are art, and I know this because no matter how stuck I may ever feel, I am moved by you.

Dear Reader,

Long story short- If you ever loved me,

I hope that you still do.