everyday since you left, my mother checked the mail,
and everyday since you left, there was nothing.
i kept track of the days and today marked twenty six,
and to my surprise i got something.
the envelope was small,
and your handwriting was sloppy,
but before i could open it,
a shiver ran through my body.
let me go were your last words.
please, its for the best.
i remember when you said this,
how your face was unexpressed.
i don’t know what you’ve written,
and perhaps i never will.
i left it sealed in its casing,
but yet i love you still.
the letters that i’ve written,
match that of the counted days.
ill stop when i reach a full year,
or sooner if so i say.
we can’t hold on forever,
you for one never did,
but perhaps you’ll read the letters,
i wrote to you as a kid.
the ones i never sent you,
the ones that still i hold.
the ones that ill keep with me,
as i, over time, grow old.