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Anna, The Only Anna:
You’re baiting me, aren’t you? You want these letters to be proof of my penance, a permanent proof of my mistakes. You want an apology, but I will not give in.
These crystalline snows, these cold lakes, they are my antidote to your heat. This was right, you know. For both of us.
I won’t write again, after this. I simply refuse.
You told me not to write, and so I won’t. This is my goodbye, and I hope to make it comprehensive, so absolute that I won’t feel the need to send along an addendum in a week’s time.
Sometimes it feels like that’s all I am doing, sending you “Oh, and another thing—“ addendums to our imagined arguments.
We both of us need a clean break, don’t we?
We both of us need to feel absolved by our righteous indignation.
You will say that I’ve had too much aquavit, that my words are nothing more than the drunken musings of a writer past his prime. Two writers should never try to match words, should they? Because there is always a winner, and a clear loser.
I always act the loser. Anna, I must always be in the wrong when it comes to you. That is what you want, isn’t it? To feel superiority of spirit over me?
Enough. No more. Tis not so sweet as it was before.
Do you remember that night, after that play? We went to bed, and everything was...
There is always noise in my head when you aren’t here. I am sick of this, your imagined space in my brain.
Anna. Enough. I hurt you, and you hurt me.
But the fault was always mine.
-Matthew
credits
from
four,
released March 11, 2014
Music - Tory Miller
Words - from "Ten Winter Letters" by Tucker Cummings
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