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It isn't clear whether or not
you are standing there.

Sometimes your reflections
Find me in peculiar places:

On trains
In the kitchen
At the doctor's office
In the arms of another

At night I sit to
Write you letters

Unsent

Stacked upon memories
Shoved to the back of the closet behind
Old coats
And brides maids dresses
worn once in the momentary
rays of love and hope

The words don't come easy
I write and re-write
The first line
hoping that the act will find
the words I long for

But my dreams of you
fade faster than my hands
sweeping across the page
It is in this moment that
I realize I have lost you

Forever passes and I find myself
Again writing you letters left

Unsent