your letters arrive
and I have no words worth replying
yet still somehow I know you feel your voice in my head
when I've read them

I'm stuck in a motion that doesn't move toward you
where the days wind down like ties under the collar
and your letters defuse amidst pocket change and papers I have not found a common place for
to pick back up on my way out tomorrow

I remember the world where I met you
that place, by now, I'm sure you love and hate
wishing you could forget and erase
all the moments we fed each other
like pastries we dreamt up in a comma of pleasure

I imagine you've changed
since we made ravines out of roads
where emotions ran deep but now dry -
you probably have come into your best light

but I only pretend to know anymore
since all my memories are outdated versions of you
just like you pretend these letters can hold the weight of explanation
to patch that range of emotions that used to span scaleless between us

your letters arrive
as if to a man who once lived here
and instead I receive them -
There are days I wish I was this man for you
wish I knew the right words to say
but like pocket change and receipts lost
there are probably a lot of things I would have returned
a lot of change that could add up in my life into something different
but I can never seem to find a place for them (or you)
on my way out
tomorrow

01/05/2005

Author's Note: this kind of goes back to that notion that I'd rather say nothing than bullsh*t with someone that I know deeper than words. And "no" I do not consider old lovers pocket change and lost receipts, its just a analogy, simply. :)

Posted on 01/05/2005
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