The Last (Love) Letter

The Last (Love) Letter

Dear John,

My work area this day has been my window-side tucked in a corner of the room as if trying to resume a child’s play of hide and seek. The lappy is playing the old 80’s hit ‘Lean On Me’, and what I infer is nothing romantic but rather a desperate bed calling me to hit upon it and go back to sleep.

It is 3.00 a.m. and I am hopelessly awake. No, it’s not a bout of depression. Nor is it about the book on ‘erotic encounters’ that you gifted me last valentines (I would have preferred a pair of boyfriend shorts though). Damn! It’s the Boloroni Pizza which I gorged up on entirely, without the company of a single friend who believes as purely in the religion of food as I do (plus that I had to write to you, AGAIN!).

You know when you love so much that you have to sit down late at night to push a pencil over (uh-uh) type them a letter.

I don’t know how to begin, (if I haven’t already done that) but maybe I want to say that your eyes sparkle so clean like Bisleri water that I might mistake you for being utterly transparent. I hope you didn’t find that ridiculous my Douche bag. Last time I called you ‘my pumpkin’, you thought I was publically accusing of being round and Pale-ishly yellow. All I wanted to say was that you are sweet.

All right, ‘nuff said baby. But the last straw was when you accused Justin Beiber of being girly. Listen, I love you (or may be used to) so call me may be and I ll tell you we are through!

From Marry (the next letter might says Marr‘ied’)

P.S. This is an official break-up!


Some girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. Others, like me, are red haired, raw, and quite plus sized. Read my work on food and fashion on this blog.

This Post Has One Comment

Share your thoughts:

Why waste a click on Close! Hit Like to stay updated
Click Like or Follow to exit this pop-up. You won't regret!
Post Navigator Supported By Fantastic Plugins