Return to Sender

Return to Sender:

I'd love to pull a pen from my drawer
and use these veins as paper for you.

I read your letter, but I

just can't bring myself

to hold on to it longer than
you needed me to. Darling,

I'm sending this back to you
without a reply, but here it is

anyway, cause I've gotta get it
off my chest and out of my heart.

This time around I am not going to

respond with all the love in my heart,

but I suppose after all this time
you do deserve a free fall drop
as if you were one of these tears
welling in my shattered crystal eyes.

Did you know I write to you
in every piece I've ever etched?
That there's something about the way
sun shines and streets flood that both
bring me back to your house all over again?
That I was more at home in your bed
filled with books and anger than
at home with my own joyful family?
That you are a tree in my garden
with a trunk etched in initials and stories
surrounded by roses soiled in memories
watered in your unspoken names?

A response such as:

I

I need you to know that
I fashioned your latest letter
into a lullaby I'll sing myself
only when there's no one else
to hear for miles. (love like ours
is meant to kill not sting).

II.

You carry enough weight
in the ink you bleed for
the both of us, only you
forgot how to pen my name
the way I forgot your address
when you moved closer.

III.

Sometimes I want to write back
so I can let you see the pain
you've caused, but to give you
a type of healing I was never offered.
To paint your face from memory
and replay your voice from starsong
are two of my greatest dreams...

and fears.

IV.

Please, return to sender.
Without a response letter