Unsent
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
I write you letters in my head
on the bus, in the shower,
in the three seconds
between turning off the lamp
and the dark arriving.
Dear you,
today I saw a man
carrying a fern on the subway
and it looked so absurd and so gentle
that I almost called you,
because you were always
the person I called
when the world did something
that couldn't wait.
Dear you,
I've stopped ordering for two.
The menu asks how many
and I don't know what to say
to a question like that anymore.
Dear you,
it's Tuesday.
Nobody cares about this
except the two of us,
and one of us
has stopped counting.
None of these letters
have endings.
That's the problem, isn't it?
Neither did we.
127 words · 29 lines · Free Verse