A Tragedy of Love Letters
(by Olivia Solomon)
I wish you could slip and slide through my skin just like the silk of last night’s sheets. Perhaps, it could be a great love letter.
Wear me like the anticipation of growing old like your favorite pair of jeans.
I look for you in smelly hotel rooms and dark bars, thinking you were just hiding in the worst places.
I am ramshackled by these threadbare clothes. You must have ripped them off far too often. I may be naked.
I still taste you on my lips after the skin has slithered away and replaced itself in reincarnation, only I forgot to tell you about the place where we’ll meet. The next life.
Where are you? It’s me.