I left you in Scotland

I loved Richard
with every thread of my 21 year old heart.
I met him in New York at a coffee shop in the West Village.
An older gentleman was trying to get him to go back to his apartment
to look at his dried roses.

Richard was beautiful.
Pale skin
light freckles
gingery hair
20 years old
just enough baby fat to make you want to pinch his cheeks.

We exchanged words with our eyes,
sentences even.

I found myself walking him back to his hotel because
he was lost. I don't think he was actually lost,
but it was a good way to get me to walk with him.

I loved his accent. It seemed that he worked hard to not have an accent,
but it always found its way out through his words. I loved Richard so much that I changed my long distance calling plan so that I could hear his voice every day.

He loved me with that intense fiery love that can only burn for someone you've given your virginity to.

I hurt you, Richard, and I am sorry.

From time to time I think of you and wonder where you are and what you are doing some 7 years later.

I wonder if you have forgiven me or forgotten me.

I remember fighting with you in the streets of Glasgow, you stopping me from taking the train to London. I remember sleeping on your floor in that awful flat with horrible shades of green,drinking too much tea, too many hard boiled eggs, and the beginning of my addiction to cadbury crunchies.

I left you in Scotland.

are you still there?


Photography used with the kind permission of the very talented
Carrie Thomas.