I'm visiting again,
To that little town in the middle of nowhere,
The place where it had all started.
I know I shouldn't be writing right now,
Since I'm driving and all.
But don't worry,
I had the decency to actually stop the car and pull it to the side of the road.
Thinking about it,
You had always treated me as if I didn't have a mind of my own,
As if I was dumb,
And you were the genius that would have to remind me,
To do the things that little dumb me wouldn't have had the capacity in my mind to even think of,
And now,
I'm kind of angry at myself,
For not remembering something as important as this,
Because is reminds me that our relationship was far from perfect.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To You
Short StorySaudade (n.) a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, Often accompanied with a denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.
