I wrote two letters, and sent neither.
One was full of heart, emotion
I could not contain, it spilled out of my fingertips and onto the page.
I wrote two letters, and kept them tucked under my bed.
One was full of hate,
a rage I could not manage,
a fire that engulfed me in flames,
it’s points were valid but all was beyond repair.
I wrote two letters and addressed them with your name.
I thought about you reading them,
and how I might ruin your day,
either way, whatever I had to say.
My news would darken your doorway, any heart felt words would be to blame.
I wrote two letters,
one to you and one to me.
One was full of hate and regret,
cursing myself for feeling
the feelings I’ve felt.
The other was a simple note, something sweetly said, something I’ve decided not to send.
Words worth saving for someone
I wrote two letters and saved them,
now they’re just reminders of who
I used to be; sometimes loving and soft, a side rarely saw.
The other fickle and jaded,
bitter with good reason.
A woman used to men
who throw words without aim,
break walls only to kill whatever lies in secret gardens,
claim “love” just to make
I wrote two letters, and I’ve decided
not to ruin your day.