A letter to Morissey
I’m writing in regards to nothing in particular
But the shyness is not vulgar and I am not a vegetarian, but please listen to me
I know somewhere you’re alive and well and your music is my melancholy heart
And Morissey, I want to know if you ever got what you wanted, and if William found out it was nothing
Because I’ve listened to your records on repeat,
through summer dog days and 4 p.m. winter nights under the Oakville bridge and
I have never found the light that doesn’t go out
And Morissey, does anybody care about the endless kilometers I have walked of their streets in my boots?
About my childhood and the cigarettes my brother has smoked to make up for the ones I haven’t?
And the wind making songs on chimes behind my old house, right above my head?
Morissey, let’s have a cup of tea
Because your jawline could tell me stories of the gardens you have sat in and the barber that cut your hair like that
And I’m so sorry you have never been a happy a day in your life
there’s a special place in heaven for people who upload entire albums to youtube
This morning I was sad that I don’t look like her
"Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest regret was how much I believed in the future."
Is it so much to ask that I just want a really pretty, expensive corset?