The Oldest of Feelings
There was a letter in my nightstand cigar box.
One page you wrote me,
Wedged between a photo and a ticket stub.
The first time I found it was in my suitcase
The day after I left you hysterically crying.
How I wished that was the last time!
(But we both know it was not.)
Heartfelt letters are rare and beautiful.
They say the things we can't say
To the people we can't say them to.
Those types of letters can never be thrown away.
At best, you can put them in a cigar box
To find again when you're least prepared.
The oldest of feelings still have wounds to open.
One page you wrote me,
Wedged between a photo and a ticket stub.
The first time I found it was in my suitcase
The day after I left you hysterically crying.
How I wished that was the last time!
(But we both know it was not.)
Heartfelt letters are rare and beautiful.
They say the things we can't say
To the people we can't say them to.
Those types of letters can never be thrown away.
At best, you can put them in a cigar box
To find again when you're least prepared.
The oldest of feelings still have wounds to open.