by Munira Tabassum Ahmed
Dear [ ],
You always told me to text you when I got home. I think you cared about me too much. Now,
there is nothing left. I do not know when grief ends, but it hasn't yet.
I’ll burn this letter once I finish writing, but for now, it exists. For now, we exist. While we do, I
wanted to tell you that [ ]. Not letting you
know is my only regret.
When you told me that you wanted to see the [ ], I laughed at you.
Tonight, I’m going. Tell me when you get there. I’ll text you when I get home.
I miss you, and I love/d you.
And there is too much more to say.
Munira Tabassum Ahmed is an emerging Bangladeshi-Australian writer and creative. Her work has been recognised by the Australian Poetry Slam, Australia ReMade, Sydney Writers' Festival, Voiceworks, The Lifted Brow, the UN Youth, the Sonora Review, and elsewhere.
Seeking words with sizzle, poetry that wraps us in burning ribbons and won't let go. Send us your best!