The spaces where the letters fell,
trapped beneath the useless mail,
messages within the only story left to tell.
As you'd fall asleep at night the sun would still be shining bright,
carrying all those letters that we used to love to write.
Words not spoken I'd adore, our hearts connecting more and more,
yet now I wonder where oh where, those letters could be,
here nor there. Â
Trade my dignity before your eyes, to reveal a truth inside the lies,
what kindness can a heart evoke, hearing what your letter spoke,
if love is deaf then strike me blind, for never shall I hope to find,
some so evil, some so kind, another heart to turn on mine.
Yet my own is fragile, strong enough to beat,
long enough to find the one and sweep them off their feet,
pulsing slowly, numb and frail, thinking of our useless mail.