I'm writing you a letter
that you'll likely never read;
it contains the truths you seek,
and tells the lies you need.
The scratching sound of pen to page
echoes down an empty hall.
If only words could change the past,
I'd have no need for words at all.
This splash of ink smells bittersweet,
and bleeds straight through each page.
I should have pressed a little less,
you could have left me in my cage.
I'm writing you a letter
that I'll surely never send.
it's far too heavy for the stamp,
too fragile to defend.
I pray that as this paper cuts,
its words will strangle hope,
if and when I tongue the seal--
this plain white envelope.
This letter that I'm holding,
an apology you'll decline,
so forgive me if I leave it here.
Sincerely, (unsigned).
|
