Dearest FabianMature

He said we needed to ‘talk,’ said we needed to set some things straight. I replied that first I needed to set myself straight. I didn’t realise the double meaning until his face dropped, until he walked away silently.

So I sit here alone, abandoned. The step is cold beneath me, the dull red bricks blocks of ice, firm and unyielding. Is my heart the same?

My life as now is an empty page,
Waiting for words, fulfilment in ink.
A book full of meaning,
Of lessons learned,
To be loved and read.
Upon pages and pages
Of life that’s been lived,
A purpose, a place,
An affection towards you:
My antagonist, my worst enemy -
But my greatest love.
Every story has beginnings,
So I hope to start mine soon.
And write it with you.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Admirer,
Leone


My eyes would bore fiery holes through the paper if they could, incinerate it beyond recognition. People aren’t supposed to love me, people aren’t supposed to care enough to craft carefully constructed poetry, signing with fake names and assuming fake emotions.

A tear forms in my eyes as a tear rips down the page. My mind echoes with voices as I rob the page of its own: Onley confessing her love, sobbing in my arms after school; Jesse lamenting the loss of my name, as it suits my new self so much better than the abbreviation, the single syllable.

Davey’s voice rings a klaxon in my ears, though not addressed to me. What could you see? What could you find? If we meet, please avert your eyes. I like to think he speaks to me through speakers, feeding his feelings through wires into my skull.

I scatter the confetti to the wind, a snowstorm of wasted sentiments. The tear falls onto the brick, staining it bright crimson. Only the one tear falls, that’s all I can spare. The others are huddled inside me, pent up with the other emotions: rage, frustration, ebullience. Love.

Looking up in time to see a car creep past, my mouth curls in disgust. Pierre peers from the passenger window, my face reflecting his but for the scowl. The spinning tires scatter the scraps of paper anew before they spiral down in its wake.

I stare out at the street, determined, a pledge on my lips to set things straight with Onely, with Jesse, and with myself.

Whatever that all means.

The End

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