Dear Could-Have-Been Boyfriend,



Inspiration was a glowing orb in my hands. You tore it away from my fingers and clenched the life force out of it. Psh—like you've have any use for it. And I'd like it back. Too many memories of you and me have been thrown in my face and I don't like it. They make my eyes sting.

Remember all the Sunday afternoons when we broke into abandoned buildings? I wish you would have gotten caught. You're lucky I already did your senior photos, and you're lucky I didn't make them all black and white. Oh! Oh! The bon fires and pouring gallons of gasoline on old love seats? The blaze was exhilarating, but I could have been doing homework on those nights. Confiding in you and handing over my trust is something I regret. You'll never regain that trust.

You portrayed yourself as someone I desired, and I loved you.

But now I know who you are on Friday nights when I'm not there. I know what you do and what you say and what churns inside your mind.

I'd try to work things out, but I'm not a heroine that saves the day in New York Times best-seller novels, though I might as well establish this reality: you dropped my heart on the marble floor. But I'll pick up the pieces.

Love, Olivia