Leo.

Dear Leo

I've tried to write more letters to you than those 70 textmessages I sent you that day, when all I could say wasn't enough.
You just asked me if I am okay. I hate when you dosaythink that, because it makes me feel so guilty that I am not locked inside my head, where my skin looks like it's on fire, where voices don't laugh at me until 3 am, and where there is always a lingering smell of onions. My head speaks to me of logic and normality, and mummy and daddy being together and everything being about as perfect as you could wish for. My head says all that over and over, but my heart just won't listen.
But my mind, made of little pink squiggles that reflect the confusion of yours, makes me say 'yes of course I'm fine', and you ask if I'm being honest, and I lie.
Today, when you were telling me I'm beautiful and describing the eyes that make you melt when I look up at you, I was leaning and shaking and those same eyes were staring at breakfast lunch and dinner and the chocolate swirls of binge. Those eyes are not the stars you think they are.
When I listen to you, I can hear the devotion in your voice, some might call it love. And I remember when I felt that for you... When I hung onto your every word and cried myself to sleep because you weren't mine. When I wrote poem after mediocre poem about how I loved you, and how you didn't love me. I think, Leo, I might have turned the tables.
I think I opened my heart to you so quickly, and gave it to you so freely that it has done the opposite of what I once expected. It has not suddenly been warmed by the coalfires of fairytales or awoken by the too red lips of a handsome prince. It was a grape, that has become a raisin, which only my chinchilla will consume. But I guess he'll become a coat soon, to warm the back of someone worthy of heat, and fire and passion.
Your fierceness was too strong, and your love too all consuming, suffocating. So I fell out of love with you, Leo. I'm sorry that this means that your feathers will moult and you'll become just the scared little boy you've always been, behind the wings of the boy called Birdy, who only I could see.

Dear Leo..
You were the first beat of my emotion and the first gasp of my lungs, on coming up for air. You were the first and last words I put to paper, the angel and demon on my ventricles. You gave me your broken heart and I stole it for my spirit. You took in return, 3 years of my childish dreams and idealistic wishes. I guess you also took some of my life, to add to the length of yours. But I am not your organ donor. I don't want to take your heart, destroyed by years of sex, smoke, and rock and roll suicides. I want mine, whole and unbruised. Too aloof to feel any pain. But I gave it to you Leo, on that first day I met you. When I knew that I was already in loveatfirstsight.
When you gave it back it was broken. You were just too violent, to protect anything you cherished.

Leo, you're not a bird anymore.
No more than I am the same little girl that gave you her everything.
I need the wings more than you, love.
I'm about to fly. Watch me.