My dear Jay,
You were never sure if you wanted to live in the past or the future. Romanticizing what was and what could have been, but never what is. I'm not sure you were ever in love with me. Sometimes I think you were simply in love with time. You were forever wed to your unutterable vision of my perishable breath. But your superficial wealth nor your fame can buy back what we had. Your clothes robed a poor, weak boy, and I've always told you rich girls don't marry poor boys. It's just not the way of things.
You gave up on your own dreams the moment you tried to fulfill mine, and now we're both left cold. Jay, you can't repeat the past. You must kill the dream. I'm not the same girl. Tom may not give me such passion as you, but he's safe. It's secure. You were fleeting the moment I took you in again.
Do not destroy the letters. Do not resent me. For yes, I have changed, and I don't want to break your heart again. With food in hand, I led a starving man. But you're getting thinner with age.
I'm sorry, Jay. I smashed things up and then retreated back into my vast carelessness, letting others clean up the mess I had made. I could do nothing other than destroy you, and you had no choice. You were made for me.
Love always,
Daisy Fay
