Dear XXXX,

I greet the morning, soft. And this time I do not think of you. I donot think of the five times XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX.
I do not let myself go to that place again.

Tequila, 4 am, and the worst happening. I tied my shoes too tight and I caught the train in the morning. I cried the whole way home.

This time, I do not think of the four blankets you wrapped around me or the way you cuffed your pants after XXXX XXX XXX.

I wish I could say more. I wish I could XXXXX XXX XXXXX, but people are watching here. And I am filled with mountains.

I think of when we met, and you said XXXXXXXXXXXXXX and I just responded by telling you we could play Sims 3 because I asked for it for Christmas and I actually got it!

I guess what I’m trying to say is. This time.
The thought of New Jersey doesn’t make me cry. Forever,


Richelle Kota (she/her) is a writer, nature enthusiast, and an educator living in Philadelphia. In 2017 she released her first self-published work, Where There Were Roses: A Memoir Through Poems. Her work has been published by Yes Poetry, Peach Mag, Breadcrumbs Mag, Cordella, Visual Verse, and Recenter Press. She aspires to live a very simple life on a farm with many pigs, goats, and dogs. You can follow her on Instagram: @tiniestdad.

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