Dear specific person,

I thought of you last night.

Of when you shared your most intimate thoughts.

Every night you’d smoke a cigarette and you’d like a James Dean who lost his words,

How striking you looked.

With your distant gaze and messed up hair,

A coke in one hand and a smoke in the other.

Your mouth filling with the most unspoken words,

The stars would glissen and the moon would becken

Never missing a word your sweet lips would utter.

 

I wonder if you know I’ve been stuck on you.

Not just your words, but your body language;

How it would scream what you would not voice,

Oh, how badly I wanted nothing to do but hold you close.

You would be closer to my heart,

You could hear everything it screams at you.

I’m young but I know that you are my world.

Oh, how I want to be your world.

Not just in my thoughts.

 

We’ll speed down the roads

Sixty-five, seventy-five, eighty-five miles per hours.

We’ll go so fast not even the sky couldn't catch up with us.

We’ll run outta town and watch the sun kiss the land like in the beginning of time.

I don't think our parents would agree with our nostalgic small minded imagination,but I like the idea of driving down I-69 in a 68’ Impala singing ‘bout our Kosmic Blues’.

 

But then again, I dreamt of you being my James Dean.

Time flies by and before I knew it I was whispering about you to the wind.

And my nights were screaming the word "Empty".

So I found myself at 3 AM writing a letter start off with “Dear Specific Person…."

So if this letter ever reaches you just know your admirer loves you dear.

 

Love,

      Helen