Sunday, 27 July 2014

Five letters

Five perfect letters,
written, not sent.

One full of anger,
one full of questions,
one full of despair,
two full of love.

I swear the words danced,
they were electrically charged.

I crafted them in stone,
carving them out so carefully,
chiseling away,
until they were just right.

And once they were perfect,
once they were done,
once they said all that they could say,
only then,
I hit delete,
and they were gone for good.

For really,
I have no right,
to write to you at all.

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