I found your old letters
whilst Marie Kondo-ing

my house and a veil of
doom descended over me

They did not "spark joy."

Paperwheights lowered
thelselves carefully into

my heart. Opening Pandora's
box seemed pointless

But I did it anyway
and read the story of us.

What I learned is that
you are neither

devil nor angel,
hell nor heaven,
careless nor careful.

Poisoned arrows shot years
ago now seemed comedic
as if they were thrown
by tiny laughing cupids.

I still look for ways to
fill up the old wound

Too deep to heal fully
Too small for ICU

I guess I always thought
you didn't love me enough

I never considered you might
love too much