Dear Veronica,

Your tattoos were your shirt and I am still trying to make it underneath. Fate alone knew we would both lose an archetype so special. No one told me how wonderfully compassionate you are and I think your caring for others led you from me to your infidelity, as incompatible a thought as that may be. You were too caught up in the substances of youth to blossom when I needed you to. I hated the concept of many of your friends but I know they held you together. It was an adventure to go visit you, along that distant shore.

What do you do now? Will you ever ink my name across your famous chest? I really am very sorry we lost our connection but you made me realize through your absence what my real preference is. I appreciate what you did for my dear friend on that class trip, and he appreciates it, too. I wish you would clean up, but I hear you mainly have. Kudos, my beauty. I remember your mother being brilliant and insane all at once, like my own father. If only that night we slept together had been more than literal. I liked the protective barrier of your body next to mine. Whenever you inhale your daemon, know that mine still asks for you. Yes, you are something else, love.