Dear....

I giggle about when we first met. You still had pastels under your fingernails. It was a Thursday and you were towing my car because it threw another fit. The weather was at it's rarest. It was unusually warm for a December in Pennsylvania. You drove me home and handed me a business card.

Please call me

Was written on the back. Two weeks later i’d call you and you'd show up at the same spot where my car threw the last fit. Coincidence or fate maybe? “Same problem?” You'd say. And then you'd give me an odd stare glasses in the night? You'd stay quite while I bite my lip. You'll keep your head down underneath the hood and the car will spit and sputter until it goes silent like that night with you.

I know you wonder why I didn't call but I couldn't just call you. I was in a relationship with a violent man. A man who'd chase me if I ran. And I did and that's why all my stuff was packed in the back seat and it explains the blood on my sleeve. I did what I had to do.

You saw what I wanted to tell you and you looked like you already knew and you still said nothing. I’d tell you where I want to go. And we hop in your truck and we head for the night. You’d grab my hand even with another man's blood on my shirt. You take me as I existed and I’d lay my head on your shoulder. We live happily ever after until the cops find me.