Dear Miss Elliott,

    Why do you not love me anymore?

Is it because I hurt you, because I walked out the door?

That can’t be it, since you’ve said all is forgiven.

But it still could be, for you haven’t loved me since then.

    Or perhaps I just wasn’t good enough?

Well, that doesn’t make sense, however else could

we have ever been in love?

    You’ve said that you have moved on, but I’m not

entirely sure that is true. One thing I know for certain is that

I haven’t gotten over you.

    I’m at a crossroads, darling,

I don’t know where to go. And if I keep on pushing forward,

I’m sure that I will stoop so very low. 

Caught in a constant rumination, unable to let you go.

    If only I could go back,

back to before the mistakes, or back to before we met.

Maybe then things could’ve worked out. I’d be happy, 

and so would you. I wouldn’t have succumbed to the doubt.

Wouldn’t have let it win. Wouldn’t have pushed you away,

would’ve let you in.

    Dear, dear Miss Elliott, 

will you ever love me? Would you ever try again?