The Last Letters In the Bag

Words, I need you now, now more than ever before, a and the especially, because you are two of the most used words in the entire English language; especially when there is nothing left to say except the story of who you are and where you've been. Letters, you twisted scribbles, meaningless glyphs, I have so many things to say to you and I need you to help me make that possible. Darling, oh my dear, sweet, sweet Darling, there is so much to do before you can go on packing your belongings because there is so much to do before you have anywhere to go. Because as you so often fail to notice, people are a fickle matter and life is even more impossibly so.

Today, someone called me a hero, which is something I can't quite say I fully understand. As she gathered her things and began to walk away she pointed her finger in your direction and whispered that you, you are god without even being a god at all. Both of these accusations brought me to a momentary relapse in all that I have ever thought I could really ever truly know, but you see, the biggest problem with all of this is that I have never saved anyone; I have never wanted anything more than to do so though. You, Darling, you have never been idolized and you are mere mortal in the grand scheme of things, sadly. There are so many other things the both of us have been deemed, but you see, Darling, as so often is the case, there is truth to those names.

You are beautiful and kind, you are the sweetest soul alive and you whisper words that dance along the back of necks and down spines so perfectly it's damn near addicting. Darling, how could your breath be so alcoholic without even drinking? And Darling, oh my dear Darling, don't you know that the words you spew and the feeling you create are the most sought after weed known to man.

I, I am love, I am pure in my own ways, and in a matter of speaking that does make me a hero; depending on the terminology you choose to elect your own for the purposes of this debate. However, I think now is also as good a time as any for me to clearly, positively, note that I am an ashen angel of silk wings tarnished with blood and soot in the most glorious of ways. I have only fallen at the expense of saving you before you had clear enough conscience to live and die at your own will.

 Darling, I am drunk, and I don't think you get what that means in this case.

Darling, I am drunk and words just don't sound the same. Darling, I am high off of your scent, off of your beliefs and your stories, off of anything and everything you have ever said or done involving me. Only it's not the kind of intoxication that lands people in jail for doing dumb things; nor is it the kind that kills your soul and eats away at your thoughts the way lovers do when you stay up all night trading secrets, sipping coffee, for the very first time in said relationship. I am in love and as much as I hate those awfully potent, misguided, meaningless words, nothing in my life has ever been so true.

Darling, I am drunk. And my poison, well, that, that was you.