I can tell you have a smile on, at the prospect of reading my letter, but sugar-girl, wipe that smile. I have no news about boys or my lover to share; my family is as it always is—sad.
I write to ask if you have heard of the city with walls of jasper, streets of gold and a pearly gate? Oh Grace have you heard of the city that needs no light; for their king is their light? I heard there’s neither night nor day, and its people are always gay. Grace, have you heard of it? I plan to make my trip there, but I may have to slit my wrist or befriend my father’s old friend; the noose. But Grace I think it’d be worth it, I have lived life at the mercy of fate for far too long, perhaps they could take my numbness away, perhaps they could make me happy. Oh Grace, I know that would be too much to hope for, but I got nothing to lose that life hasn’t already taken. And before I forget to tell you, my lover has wed Suzanne, and she’s carrying his child with joy; I can neither know love nor bear children. Grace do you see reasons I need to go?
There’s nothing really to live for; I’m a traveler tired of my journey.
P.S please write back; I’d love to hear your words . . . one last time.
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey