D - Maybe One Day I Could Be Her

D

© Mark Lavorato


I am stuck to you
Like the stamp on an envelope
Of one of those letters we write and never send
Licked with a teary tongue
And slapped onto the corner with reckless abandon
That decayed as fast as courage


One of those letters written in frantic sentences
Words trying desperately to convey things that were never said
But should have been
The type of letter that sits in a drawer until it's forgotten
Which is never
And that ends with:


Come home.
Even if I don't know where that is.
I've seen it.
I have seen it.
It's the place where the sun drags slow across the floor
like it's sneaking up on us;
skulking over the wood while you read on your stomach,
crawling with hunted silence
towards your bare feet.


Please.
Meet me there.


Please.