My dearest Clementine,

When sweet, fermented juices trickle down my throat I often think back to the day we first met. I remember fondly of the bright golden light of the first summer dawn and the new life you’ve sighed into my weak and weary lungs. In reality, however, you were my golden light, and I am forever grateful, I am in your debt. I hope to see you again, I long for it, I miss you. Where have you gone? Your house is empty, and I must admit that I alone have made your post box full, with letters who haven’t been blessed with your eyes of a smoldering ember. Ever since the last time my eyes saw you they’ve been playing the cruelest tricks onto this lonesome soul of mine, I’ve seen you through shop windows, and through the veil of rain, your porcelain complexion was even stitched upon some poor soul’s unworthy vessel, I have to admit to you my love, I could hardly hold back my urge to tear their mask from the seams leaving nothing but their dishonorable skull. Clementine how your sweet name rolls off the tongue. Such a fitting name for you who is as sweet as sugar cane and molasses, however nothing compares to the sweetness of your voice, a voice that could even give my ears cavities, just looking at you makes my teeth rot, while yours remains blemish-less like the highest quality of pearls. Knowing that you’re gone even just for a little while makes my eyes leak, pour, spew with uncontrollable anguish, drowning me, when I’d rather be drowning in your morning coffee, the colour of the night, for the chance to be consumed and be closer to you. Seeing you drink your cup of night all I can look at is your raven locks, the same ones that crawl onto your face and neck while you blissfully slumber. I can hear your beautiful house creak and groan for your soft feline footsteps to return. Its doorknobs yearn for your gentle touch; it wants to be softly bruised with your continuous turning like a perfectly ripe fruit. Your kitchen has been barren; have you been eating out? I haven’t smelled your cooking wafting out of your house. What about your laundry? Your dryer hasn’t been used; the vent hasn’t been producing its Wednesday smoke. Do you still separate your colours from your whites? Upon further contemplation your checks haven’t been in your post, have you been at the house? Or has some uncivilized thief taken your hard earned $1,110 if that is the case I will find whoever would steal from you. I have noticed that there have been a many parcels appearing upon your stoop, all of them have the name “Charlotte” written on them. I have taken the liberty of taking them, for both you and I know that there is no “Charlotte” living in the house. I have checked them as well for the safety of our house and neighborhood. You’d be shocked to discover that within the parcels are many items that would fancy you, such as books that you’ve often checked out from the library, or the clothes that you’ve eyed at through shop windows. I might just give them to you for our anniversary, I do hope that this time you’ll remember it, like I have for the past five years. My Clementine, who is this “Charlotte”? Do you know something about her? Everything in those parcels are they yours? Have you changed your name without telling me? Come to think of it, I did see your license plates in your trash bins, have you changed them? Are you hiding away from me? You wouldn’t, would you? You’re not like everyone else you’re special, we’re special, we’re going to be together forever, have you not realized? You’re not being you, has someone spouted lies to you? It is that liar Charles, who claims to be your boyfriend? You poor little thing, he’s corrupted your mind and soul with his poison. Remember that time he was being paranoid, and installed all those cameras and those horrible locks? You really shouldn’t be around people like that; I never want you to lose your perfection to low lives. Did you know he tried to send law enforcement onto me, luckily law enforcement took pity on the poor thing, because “he lacked adequate evidence “. I believe that I am quite a cunning creature, something that doesn’t have fear or regret, I am only filled with my undying love for you and everything you love, I know you feel the same way about me. Did he change you? Did he change the way you’d walk down the street, unaware that you share the same pace as me. Did he chop down my favorite tree? Like how he threatened to. Are your thick locks shorn, did you stop going out to the theater? Thinking about all these unfortunate circumstances has made my delicate heart sink and my blood curdle. Why have you made me feel this way? Did you do this intentionally? After all the time we spent together, all the gifts I’ve given you, all the words I’ve written for you and you alone, and everyone I’ve… you know what? If you’re going to believe that compulsive liar then you don’t deserve to know everything, I’ve done for you, it’s not like you’d notice anyway. You’re a temptress, you’ve blinded me with your toothy smile, deafened me with your nasally voice, burned me with my own burning heart. I’m going to rip that liar’s tongue out by its roots, I’ll set ablaze to the things he loves so dear, so he understands what it’s like. Those uninspired paintings must’ve taken a pretty long time to construct, right, Clementine? I have one last gift for you if you don’t open your eyes to the heart, mind, and soul you have in the palm of your hand. Do you still like your white satin sheets, the ones that always smell like vanilla? I’ll refrain myself from staining them rouge, with the delicate fluids that course through your sapphire veins, and the diseased fluids that flow through the hideous veins of that * liar, Charles. The scents of your cooking never fail to make me fall head over heels for you, however with your absence I have seen myself grow bitter and apathetic. Maybe if I cook for you, you’d feel the same or is it too late? I wish to bake and cook with your raven locks as the secret ingredient; I want to see your ghastly face as you swallow the thick locks. I want your eyes to water, pour, seep with those waters of the sea, while you choke the same way I did every time I saw you, my dear those beautifully painful tears will be your salt. As for Charles, he’ll be dining separately, his fangs will be sinking into the most bruised of apples, the ones from our beloved tree. He’ll have his full, I hope to see the tree that sprouts when he is returned to Mother Nature’s flesh. I wish you to know that this all could be avoided if only you followed your heart and soul back to me instead of letting scum drag you through mud and ash tainting the very essence of you. Thinking back, your face resembled that of lady sorrow. What has caused you to contort your face to something so hideous? Now I remember what your contorted features looked like when fear shot you between those ember eyes. I missed it when I could whisper sweet nothings into your delicate ears. Now I long for what we had. I yearn for the feeling of your warmth, and the feeling of your hot breath upon my cheek. I often catch myself tapping your hearty rhythm when my mind grows bored. Loving you Clementine was the easiest thing I could do, however letting you go was easier, for I know that I’ll see you again, shortly through pearly gates while Charles rots beneath us. Until that happens, I’ll draw your face among tally scratches along my walls of cement and tell everyone about you through barred doors. Tomorrow I will be taken into the house of justice and order to confess my undying love for you. I hope they will award me with the sweet kiss of lady death, only after that we will be reunited. One can only hope for the electric kiss.

-Yours truly Tangerine

Do you like the new name I have chosen for myself? I chose it for you.