You take something so worthless, fragile, and ruined…
You take it, and you give it reason, purpose, life, and beauty…
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Locked in my desk, behind mess and clutter.
Ramblings of things I can’t remember.
Conversations of something tender
Or were they better, forever, was it something together?
I remember something splendor, over snow-cones in mid November.
Perhaps it was a dream, a dream now dead.
And this letter, locked in my desk, in an envelope filled with regret.
Written with words I’ve never said.
A message to this day, left unread.
