i dont know if im doing this right
(maybe there should be a rhyme scheme enlaid in here)

you are the visage that layers over my reality; wherever i look, i find a bit of you

maybe im writing love letters to you
maybe im writing love letters to the little me-s i've lost along the way

or the parts of me i sawed off and choked out and drowned

the parts of me i've strangled and chopped up and buried in the backyard ten feet away from the front door of the house

i'm sorry

i'm sorry i thought growing up meant refining myself and refining myself meant a grotesque mutilation of something still learning

i'm sorry for the anger and the hatred and the intrinsic want to rid myself of myself in me
i gave it my best effort to really try when i sunk in that knife

and now i find snapshots of you and bits of thoughts you left split open in old word documents like i've stumbled through all that yellow tape onto the scene of the crime

i'm sorry i hated you
i'm sorry i hated me
i'm sorry i can't explain

i miss you and i mourn you and i murdered you

you're still a phantom limb
you're still an aching wound
feelings buried alive never actually die and
i hope you continue to keep haunting me

i'm sorry
i'll carry you in me; i promise
i promise

i dont know if im doing this right
- a letter to thirteen year old rosemary
written in spooky season 2019
published in spooky season 2020

remember to forgive your younger self; you were still learning :)