No communication.

I've sealed so many envelopes in my life.
Words of intention licked to the edges,
Packed silently away, a memory and a postage paid.
And into my bag, slipped for safe keeping.

I've kept to many address books in my life.
Phone numbers memorized and programmed into every device.
Voices echoing through the receiver.
and into my mind, other's words are absorbed.

I've hugged so many people.
I've told so many the truth.
I've said I love you.
We've both cried over lost time.

Why?

Everyone knows the only hope we have is in a lost title.
Stuck somewhere between morality and insanity.

But you... Every time I pick up a pen,

I write entire essays, fill envelopes..
I always tear up your cards and letters.

I pick up the phone, I dial your number.
But the call never connects. I hang up.
Or leave messages I know you'll never return.

This isn't war, or hate, or disgust.

I simply cannot live with my past.
And you.. are the holder of it.

I'm so sorry.