Every God Damned Minute.

Dear K,

This is not about what happened tonight. This is about what happened last night. Last year. The year before that, and most of the ones I can remember before that.

I talked on the phone to her for an hour and a half. The whole time I thought about what could have been. I loved her. She was my moon, my stars, my oceans of fire. I set my days in her orbit. I set my nights down beside her.

All the pretty words I wrote. The tragic tears of ink I shed. The hurt the joy and the pain. I'm lost without them now. I cut those things out of my heart. I cut her out of my life. Now, here I am in my little river town, and I'm not sure about tomorrow, or the day after that, or the one that follows.

I used to be so certain. I was a rock of faith. I had this love and even though it hurt me and cut me, I knew it was there and it would always be there. Then I woke up and moved away, and cut that part of myself off, and left it to die in Missouri.

I miss that part of myself. I miss that desperation. That pointless agony. The longing the ache.
I'm not sure I would undo what I did. Even if I could.

The truth is I loved her more because she didn't love me. I loved the tragedy. The everyday sorrow of it. I felt like I was young Werther.

But that's all gone now. It's blown away out of me. Soon I will forget.

But yeah it was worth it.

Every minute,

K