Dear High School Boyfriend,

formerly known as sweetheart

babe

future husband

and so on,

I regret to inform you 

that I have moved on,

and no longer care 

to be manipulated,

berated,

stuck in a 

complicated mess. 

You are spoiled milk

that I drank once, twice,

but not three times.

If I were to press that glass to my lips,

the curdled liquid bubbling and reeking

of sour stench,

if I ever did drink the poison

that you are,

this is what would happen.

The day I crawl back to you, is 

When flies and furry spiders can share a web in harmony.

When a baby’s first word is “diphtheria.”

When caterpillars emerge from their cocoons as slimy leeches.

When the dragon in my bedroom breathes icicles, when he turns into a broom.

When the moon grows pink angel wings and leaves us for Saturn.

When Rutherford B. Hayes is elected president again.

When the ghosts in all the scary movies come out during the day.

When my toenails grow so long they curl all the way up to my ankles, when they look like skis.

When ants use Smarties as skipping stones on Lake Superior.

When the Titanic is pieced back together to sail again.

When water can put out a bacon grease fire.

When my skin turns inside out, when my heart is dusted with pebbles and sand. 

Cold regards,

Your High School Girlfriend