A Huge Colossal Ruse

I like to pretend that you fooled us all and ran away to Kensington Market and that you are living there, eating chocolate covered croissants and frequenting the HotBox. I like to imagine that our tears were all a part of a sick and twisted hoax perpetrated by you. I would forgive you the years of pain if it meant that I got just one more moment with you. I hope that one day I will get a mysterious text with nothing more than the word "Hey". I want to return to Toronto and hang out in St Lawrence Market looking for you by the pea meal stand. I will position myself between that shop and the little store that sells butter tarts. Surely you will show up one day. Did you ever beat the tar out of that old Russian furrier on Spadina above the Bombshelter? Please go to the Jave Cafe and have a brie and avocado sammich and a pitcher of sangria and think of me. Take a picture of a Banksey and email it to me. Go see Anna's burlesque show. Watch out for the killer squirrels. Wax your dreads, shake hands with the rastas, buy me a pretzel loaf from Cob's Breads. Damn it, Jeffrey... you can not be gone. I miss you so much. Some days I can tolerate your absence. Today is not one of them. I miss you like hell fire. You prayed for an angel, now I pray for someone who can love me like you did. Send me that person. I can not have you, but you can send me who I should have. You get to pick him. Pick well. IMU ILU TYFBME