By: Linda M Crate

i never told you that i loved you because truthfully you were always with someone else, and i knew or at least i consoled myself with you didn’t feel the same way in return; i was a bit ashamed to have fallen for a woman because i was always told that it was wrong—so i buried my emotions and in a painful moment lashed out at you, and it wasn’t fair or right; so i can see why you were hurt and why you may never forgive me—you were the one that taught me that scars were beautiful and reawakened dreaming in me when i thought it was dead, and i remember seeing the producers with you and car rides with our long hair dancing out of your little pink convertible; you always struck me as otherworldly like a faerie from another realm that wandered into ours, and you told me the scars from my gallbladder surgery looked like japanese flowers—i remember you always smelled like roses, and forever i shall love you; even after the universe may be dead and gone and we are in a new world; maybe next time i will get it right.