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