I wrote you a letter

Last night or this morning

It’s hard to say which

In those hours between

Sunset and sunrise that

Blend together when you’re

Alone and awake

I tried to write a poem

But I am no poet

So I erased my lethargic words

I tried to draw a picture

But my fingers failed me

So I destroyed that too

You were on my mind—

As you always are

In those hours between

Sunset and sunrise

So I wrote you a letter

It was rambling and awkward

An accurate portrait of myself

But earnestly felt

I still haven’t decided to mail it

Off or hide it away 

With all the other things

I never share with you.


52 notes | Reblog | 4 months ago
Posted on January 22nd at 6:40 PM
Tagged as: poetry. spilled ink. really i'm no poet. letter. creative.
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