To whom it may concern,
When I first met you my heart didn't stop. It was a bad day to even walk outside, my breakfast sucked, and an old man had yelled at me from taking his park bench. I didn't see the world-your soul, in those eyeballs. Your nails so bitten it hurt to look. That annoyance in wasteing seconds to say 'hello' to a stranger puts an odd look on us doesn't it? There wasn't a spark of lust or eternal love. All I could read was the letters of a crossward puzzle mixed through days of non-sequential meetings.
I'd meet you down by the deli and walk main avenue debating the name of a firefly, or lightning bugs. Both could go on and on until the other side of town, but stop midway from laughter. My hands would be weaker before the walk- I admit, even the caffeine could not supplement me. No, I don't want to admit it but yes, I was.
I never was one to care for riddles but I still stared while you'd paste the world together. The pixels on that old shirt of yours came together. You were a gal with stripped pj's marked "To whom it may concern." standing on rooftops Sunday mornings. The illusions of your mouth had us fighting monsters and bringing empires to our feet.
"We'll see the castle glowing, the people cheering." We'd sail toward the sea without choosing. Just like the shows you watched on that little flat screen of yours and books that ordained the left side of your flat. A romance adventure filled with nights full of your conversations. All inside your head and I was your prize novel. One that would move to the bottom of your bestseller shelf and turn up into the classics. Something to suggest and review if ever asked.
The shirts never changed.
My letters never went into your conversation, my concern was far greater than that Wednesday morning we shook hands. Did you notice the first time I tried to hold it? The single most exciting and terrifying moment back then. So what is this? I'm letting go of air and that's just everywhere.
Until we meet again as busy strangers with matters more important at hand,
Tin.
P.S. It was firefly. Now I am sure, because you have proven me wrong.