"texts i never sent" by Dina L. Relles

Dina L. Relles’ work has appeared in The
Atlantic, DIAGRAM, Wigleaf, Passages North,
​and elsewhere. She’s the nonfiction editor at Pidgeonholes. More at dinarelles.com or @DinaLRelles.

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​texts i never sent

last night  i cried  in the  vestibule over  you • i  think  of  you  when i  stand  by  water • i  want  to  be
everyone’s  cup  of tea  •  i’m  often  barefoot and  without an  umbrella  •  (can  you be a  little  too  in
love  with  the  world?)  •  i  want  impossible  things  •  i  imagine  you  messaging  me  one  day  with
only  marry me  and nothing else  •  it turns out i like sleeping alone  • i say  i love you  to dear friends
and old lovers  and the bus driver  and sometimes  even  the repairman  on the other  end of the line 
• i  seek  the  steadiness  of  kitchen  kisses • i  fuck  you  in my mind  as i fall asleep • i envy those for
whom  absence  comes  easily  •  i’m  nostalgic  for  earlier  this  afternoon  •  yesterday  i  fell  in love
with yellow all over again   •   i’ll drive anywhere to disappear distance   •   there’s not enough kissing
on  street corners  •  i was  happier before  i became intimate  with uncertainty  •  i cry when  i come,
sometimes  in  closets • there  are  always  other  endings • i  lost  an afternoon  to  looking for an old
letter • train  whistles  leave  me  lonely • you  pinch  my  skin  so  i  feel  the  pain  of  wanting  you • i
have  a  scar from that night  i  drank enough to say something true  •  i’m  working  on  needing  you
less  •  distance  is at  once  irrelevant and everything  •  i’ll  send you  a love letter that’s  just a  list of
places  we’ve  never  been • i  rarely  throw  away  old  shoes • i  almost  bought  a  pack  of  cigarettes
so  i could stand still under  sky and consider things  that disappear  •  i spent  a morning wondering
​why decay  is romantic •  i  wrote you  a poem in a diner  bathroom • we  fall in  love with  each other
in  the  marginalia • i  keep  a  list  of  everyone  i’ve  kissed • even  the  gas  station  is  a  love  story •
maybe  all  of  life  is  a  lesson  in  how  to  feel  far  from  what  you  love • i  knew  you  for  one  wet-
pavement-city-sky-yellow-taxi  night  •  i  would  marry  your  loneliness  tomorrow  without  asking
• i  envy the  wind,  how  it comes  and  carries on •  everyone  i  love is  better  at leaving  • all  i  want
is for  you to  find me  on a map   •  i remember  my way  through empty rooms  •  i  collect  dirt  road
goodbyes • i  decide  it’s  because  you  love  me  that  you  don’t  write • it’s  hard  to  hold  on  to  the
absence  of  a  thing • mostly  i  like  to  be  left  alone  with  my  longing • i  knew  it  was  over  when i
no  longer  wanted  to  tell  you  about  the  stars  •  we’ll  lose  everything  we  love,  without  end • i’ll
cross  all that  flat  land  to you  if  you  let me •  it’s raining  and  here i am  leaving  again • i’m  never
ready for the end of things