| Love Letter Years Too Late I know. You don't care how I feel. It's too late to make you care. I must release the feeling. I must write this. Sometimes, in the night hours, I lay awake meditating on you. Are you the same yet? Are you the boy I left despite love years ago? I wonder about you, about all the histeria which occured in your name. It was a hell, but you remained my window to God and I dare now to wish you were here. I can remember you as if you never left. I can smell, taste, and breathe you. Will I ever touch again? I have not forgotten the two years of ridicule, dispersed as if it were a daily vitamin. I missed you. You told me to pretend you didn't exist, I haven't forgotten. So hurtful. Were you conscious of the hurt you caused? I will not pick at old scabs; I will not rekindle old flames. NEXT POEM MY POETRY HOME |