Dear Atlanta

You’re so far away, too far away.

Come back, I’m not finished.

It can’t end like this.

Why am I striking one accord to what’s not on paper?

This was never supposed to be a poem.

I had to think of something but it was forced, because I had to think.

When there was no shadow of doubt – I stopped myself.

I had a Vanilla Bean Creme Frappuccino.

His voice was calming.

I told him.

To his face.

We spoke for hours.

I bet he thinks I say that to all the guys…

My worst nightmare, was to marry someone I didn’t love.

Dear Atlanta, don’t take this the wrong way.

Dear Atlanta, you’ve been more than out of convenience. 

I had a whole piece written for him and it could have been worse.

In good taste.

He did it for me, and at the time.

He’ll probably get this, or get it.

It’ll be for my eyes only if not.

You’d never understood, should you read this one day.

You would have taken it personal then smiled, but missed it. Smile, and feel yourself to the point of ‘that awkward feeling’ that I just can’t afford to feel, when I write.

Still I’d look at you and think awww, bless.

Tomorrow I’ll look back and say why, no…

But freedom is beautiful.

Dear Atlanta… 

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