It was the cruelest summer, when I pushed you out the door and
you took the cab, worlds apart from me.
Vivian, how lovely you were.
I lose you only to hate the way I made you cry.
Those afternoons with blue diamonds glittering around your neck, and we
were eating ice cream that night under the blue streetlights,
you dancing with Liszt on because I liked Love Dream
but that's no song to dance to so you played Green Light.
Head out the car window, looking at me, you were crying.
You were heartless, Viv.
We sat in the park and you kissed my hands.
Peeled a plump mandarin orange and pop a sweet slice in my mouth.
Never knew what flowers I liked but you still send me flowers anyway.
I've always known I wasn't going to have you forever.
I write this to Santa Fe, for it to find you.
I've lived three summers in one.
You are still heartless as you were when you killed me so slow, Vivian.
And I'm no better.
If this does reach Santa Fe, I want you to know how much you hurt me
and how it still is.
I hope I still hurt you just as much.
