Letters

4/10/10

Half written letters;

Phrases that could have been great.

Sentiments expressed just right

that no one ever read.

Nostalgia felt then for a former time;

sadness felt now for partings.

Letters to friends, telling of life and nonsense

never sent, never received.

A sort of journal to myself

meant for someone else's eyes.

These letters accumulate,

fragments of something more:

a life lived and people missed,

missives kept to the writer,

envelops the messenger never touched.

Unsent letters,

possibilities of connection that never were fulfilled,

friendships let go off,

conversations that never existed.

They hold bittersweet thoughts,

some never meant to be sent

and kept as paper memories of a turbulent time.

Fragments of letters,

mini time capsules,

kept for a different day

to remind me of my life and emotions.

The promise of a friendship that wasn't kept,

that wasn't maintained,

wasn't valued.

Apologies and excuses

all the while the subtext is

I missed you a whole lot for a little while,

then I moved on

and you were just a casualty of

a friendship based on proximity.

They say

I couldn't remember you enough

or care enough

or try hard enough

to really write you a letter

so I wrote myself a fragment of one.

They say

I'm sorry,

and I am,

that this happens

but it does. Even to the best of us

it happens. This forgetting,

this not-finishing,

this great project and good intentions

that never get fulfilled.

All of these unsent letters.