A letter · one thing I keep meaning to say

Dear You

If you're still angry, that's okay.
This will wait. So will I.

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The wax broke before I did.

Read the part I'd been too proud to say.

Things I keep on my desk

Our photographs.
Each one a reason.

    It has been

    3 days

    since I last saw you.

    (Tuesday, the kitchen, around 9:14 PM.)

    It has been

    247 days

    since you walked into my life.

    Three of those, I have spent without you. I would like that number not to grow.

    Things I'm not allowed to forget

    Tap a polaroid.
    I'll tell you what it means.

    I'm sorry.

    For all of it. Even the parts you don't know I'm sorry for yet.

    Use your finger.

    Scratch the gold.

    I love you. I always have. Even on Tuesday.

    drag · sweep · scratch

    Pick any one. I'm here either way.

    Door one Give me five minutes I'll do most of the talking. You can interrupt whenever. → Door two Call me No texting. No editing. Just my voice and yours. → Door three I'm coming over The kitchen light is still on. →

    still yours,

    Rohan.