Dear Lover,
Cats never bark at your command. Oranges won’t sprout from the Granny Smith apple seeds you planted, no matter how many ancient spells you chanted. Did you wish for blue roses and owls to join choruses and sing songs written without words or notes or melodies? Do wop do wop wop. Do ri mi, bitch.
Yelling “Swiper, no swiping” never made thieves put the shit they were stealing back on their proper shelves with the labels facing front. When you kicked the leg from your kitchen table, I bet you weren’t expecting it to fall. You’re the type of man to wait for a beached whale to swim from sand.
Your disbelief in gravity never made you fly. Your anger with me never darkened the sky. A desperate need of finances never made money appear. Your empty threats no longer fill me with fear. You have been hoping to change me. You have hoped impossibilities.
With your fairy tales and fabrications and potent manipulations, you have only succeeded in making me an alien to your every affection.