I once tried to write you
A letter, a message.
One that would have
Made you realize
How I felt.
How I feel.
I never sent
You that letter.
I couldn’t figure out
What words to say
And the eraser marks
And teardrop stains
Smudged out the
Only good ones I had left.
I only hoped for you
To realize that
You meant something
To me and everyone else.
I should have sent it,
Because now
You’ve left me
In sorrow and despair.
I’m the one who found you,
Shriveled up and
Soaked in my tears.
The tears from realizing
That I could have saved you
If I had only sent
That goddamn letter.
Now I’m being forced
To write that letter,
Only this time
It has a different meaning.
One that bids farewell,
And grants an apology.
I can not bear to be here
Any longer
All I feel is sadness
And longing.
It is my fault that
You aren’t here,
Because I never sent you
My only letter of love.
YOU ARE READING
To Be Determined
PoetryBook 4 of seemingly endless poetry (or should I say possibilities?) Some poems are real life, some are not. Think before you assume.
