(i) I stole a flower and then the flower died.
(ii) I didn’t want to throw it away. I did anyway.
(iii) I only speak in whispers but I hate it when other people do that.
(iv) The last time I had to sleep to the ticking of the clock, I didn’t. I took out the batteries and put the clock in another room.
(v) I’ve always wanted a Van Gogh painting in my room.
(vi) I make sketches of all the things I know I cannot have.
I sketched your heart.
It beats on paper.
(vii) I tore all my sketch books last night.
(viii) I’m not sorry.
I know I should be.
But I’m not.
(ix) I have so much to say and all these words keep spinning around in my head until I write them down in the letters I never write to you.
Letters I post without an address to be delivered to.
Letters I collect stamps for.
(x) I have a beautiful stamp collection.
I’ve never used a single stamp.
(xi) I’ve always wanted a beautiful stamp collection.
I wish I had one.
(xii) I sketch myself a beautiful stamp collection and put it up on the wall next to the Van Gogh painting I don’t have.
(xiii) I clear out my trash. Your heart shattered into pieces when I tore my sketch but it still beats like nothing happened.
Maybe nothing ever did.
(xiv) my heart beats like nothing happened.
I like to pretend that nothing did.
(xv) I sketch my heart on paper and hope it beats there.
It has to beat somewhere.
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_I wish I lived in my sketches.
emm
13/03
#lettersfromemm
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