To Kris...

Light tumbles through the window,
splaying Itself across the table,
across the letter I wrote you:
The one that will remain
Unsent.

I would be giving you Too Much of myself

There I would lie in Your hands
reduced
to the simplest terms:
Lines and curves of words
not me
the smell of ink,
my new perfume.
Toner fills the lines
like the blood in my veins
the black and white of the page;
You would be blind to the rest of my spectrum of unique
shades

Words
that you could misconstrue
Feelings would become flowery adjectives
You wouldn’t hear the sincerity behind them.
My apology would be in the monotone of a greeting card poem.

The tears I cried while writing
will turn into
the coffee you spill while reading.

There I would lie,
a thin piece of paper,
no longer a person,
that you would crumple between your hands and discard:
A lost friendship.

I glance down at the Unsent,
and with a shaky hand
place it back in it's envelope
where it will remain Unsent.