Old Letters

Reading old letters from

and to the one I’ve never

truly looked upon

nor actually ever touched

my heart fills with sadness

for though we’ve both agreed

it best to stop conversation

that does little more than

add to our loneliness

for each the other,

to stop conversation

that does little more than

add to our longing

for each the other,

to stop conversation

that adds to the

knowledge of the

futility of our love.

Still...

though I know this would

open narrowly  healed

wounds of heavyheartedness

how I want to write

how I want her to write

I so want to know she is well,

I so want to speak of my love

I so want my lady to speak

of her love

but know it best

to just let love lie,

...and one day

maybe

...one day to die.