#MarrowPDXWrites Day4

Dear first love,

If I were to still have your number,

There are quite a few things I’d have to say—

like how could you ghost me each and every day?

Why did you pursue my friend,

even when she hinted she knew me,

on a stupid dating app, literally tinder,

that threw me.

Why is it when I asked whether you wanted to have sex,

you disappeared— never to be heard from again.

I had to ask mom if I suddenly needed to call you my
”ex”.

I’d never experienced being left on read.

Nor had I thought it an option.

With all of that said,

I would caution

Do not leave your love to wonder,

whether they were a body to be conquered,

because that is a grave blunder,

you give them ideas— and then of course they become angered.

Flustered for thinking it was real,

Frustrated for thinking they were wrong,

Finding ways to somehow deal,

Frantically covering their sorrow with a song.

So, dear first love,

now that we have grown older,

I wish you nothing more than to rise above,

above the boulder

of improper communication

above the boulder

of primal instincts

and treasure it is what you got.

If not,

give it to someone who can do it better,

or else I’m sure you’ll end up receiving this letter.

— F.b. // Pessimistic Poet

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