|marked: return to sender.|
no-send letter number twenty-three.
we've exhausted our options.
we count them one by one.
we've found ourselves jaded
by this cycle we've begun.
i'm cautious to move forward,
for what will i find?
in your brain is hidden a different
perspective of our lives.
i've endeavored upon a journey
that requires the mending of my soul,
but i've brought back nothing but
frustration and it's seemingly getting old.
nervous of your hand upon another
i sink my issues, thoughts and feelings
under my skin until there's nothing left.
i'm struggling between which
road i should turn on.
really only one question remains:
am i ready for you to be gone?
i've attacked my lungs, my bones,
the very essence of my being.
i wish to over-take your eyesight
to simply see what you are seeing.
i've filled up every page in this book
with my simple no-send letters.
but, i suppose i'll adorn them with stamps
as it's clear we will not get better.
(comment on this poem)