Letter.

by denayarose

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I trace my freckles from skin to air. I do not need permission to take up this space. Imprecise yet somehow rigid, I stand. Careless. Unapologetic. Credible in my convictions. I know your misery is not mine to carry.

Your hovering presence fades as I place you in the past to mingle with your unwarranted presumptions. I rest my expectations. I let you settle into a flawed perspective with the understanding that it is not my job to fix you. Your unfair judgments do not intimidate or render me unreliable. Nice try, though.

I’m an untouched letter on the counter, perfectly written but never read. A folded burden, somehow forbidden. Do you think words care if they go unseen? Do your eyes somehow validate their existence? Does your aversion make this paragraph weep? We are both unbothered now that you’re contained inside these words. Goodbye.

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