Dear Hank-
I write in hopes that you will remember me, the little girl crying in the gutter, clutching your words tightly to my chest. I write in hopes that perhaps you would have known me before my time, known the magic and my faerie wings folded tightly against my back under my heavy flannels, saved just for you. I write in hopes that you might like my work, that you might know how many nights you kept me alive, how many nights you kept me awake, how many tests I was distracted from because your books were so inviting. I write to let you know that your letters terrified me, inspired me, made me cringe, set me free, stung me infinitely deep, changed me forever, and some had no effect at all. My dearest Hank, you were my idle, and I know you would have hated it and I know you would have laughed at the idea. I drank your words in and became intoxicated with you. I am so sorry that I missed you. So sorry. In closing, please know that I never lost faith in you or in the power of your words and your experience. Please know that I still feel you and that you will live in my heart forever. Please know that I love you.
-your
Fallen Poet
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