Love Letters

I say, I’m not sure.

You say, what do you mean your not sure?

It would seem obvious, of course Oscar Wilde beats any other love letter.

But what happened to him and his lover anyway, I ask.

We’re laying in the dark but I can tell that you shake your head, and I look at you skeptically.

You tell me it’s on page 63, I know that page number.

I recall touching each word with the tip of my finger and mouthing them in silence, “Love me always, love me always.”

I squeeze my eyelids shut, I’m dizzy and these words sting me.

I read on, “most loved of all loves, my soul clings to your soul, my life is your life…”

I exhale in disappointment and decide I’ll try to understand you another day, in another life, when those words don’t leave my skin crawling with memories of you.