Continued, Carnival Fantástico
Pigeon.
When you first told me your father enlisted you into the Blackbirds, I could hardly believe it. I thought maybe you were playing some sort of terrible prank.
You weren’t, of course. You were never the joking type.
I suppose that was more my thing.
But I was not joking when I told you that your father is a terrible man. And you didn’t want to believe me. Me! The person who has never lied to you.
I know I asked you to run away with me, but I take it back. You won’t disobey him.
You are your father’s son. I saw it when we argued just now.
We aren’t compatible, and I think you’ve always known that. There was never going to be an US. Never. You know that. I have always been meant for more. And you bore everyone around you.
I doubt you will even find this letter. I doubt you ever planned on meeting me by the dove tree or running away because you’re so straitlaced. But if you did come here and you do find this letter, please forget me.
Because I will have already forgotten you by the time this ink dries.
Dovie