Oh God,

Is it so wrong? So wrong that through this perfection, that through all of this seemingly impenetrable beauty, I still find holes? Perforations caused by my sharp little doubt poking at the most troubled aspects of my heart cannot help but unravel wounds that would have otherwised healed easily. I could not help it, sir, but to bring back a large duffel back full of letters drawn on by broken script, and pictures turned green; every zipper brings another heartache, every pouch has another promise. I dragged it here, I dwell in its contents and I do this for no reason. For no good reason. For no reason other than to remember what it felt like to be stupidly (so very pathetically) so very earnestly (so very deeply) in......

Yours, Anahi

My Dearest Swingset,

For the past two days I've found happiness in nothing but you.
I secretly hope you turn around and betray me somehow.

Sincerely, Anahi