Cordula's Web. Flickr. The Briarhurst Manor (between Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs).
Flickr. The Briarhurst Manor, between Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs. yowzer. Gallery 44
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The Letter

Dawna Bradford

The postman brought the mail,
Like he does everytime.
I sat here on the front porch steps,
Sorting through what's yours and mine.

It's the same routine that I go through,
Almost every day.
This one's though is different:
I got your letter today.

I've known for a while now,
That there was something wrong:
The fire I feld in every kiss,
Has been missing, for so long.

Even when you're lying next to me,
I can tell you're miles away.
Now I think I understand:
I got your letter today.

"It was sad and lonely(?)
When will you be free(?)
I've been dying without you,
I need you here with me..."

Those words cut deep just like a knife
And tore my heart in two...
That letter wasn't meant for me,
It was sent from hurty you.

I've been sitting here for hours,
Wondering what to say.
I never dreamed that love like ours,
Would ever turn this way.

No, don't try to comfort me,
That means more than I can stand.
It's no denying what's written here,
In this letter, in my hand.

And it said: "I love you,
And when you'll be free?
I'll be dying without you,
And need you here with me."

Those words cut deep just like a knife,
And tore my heart in two:
That letter wasn't meant for me,
It was sent from hurty you.

Those words cut deep just like a knife,
And tore my heart in two:
That letter wasn't meant for me,
It was sent from hurty you.

Home :: Poetry :: Ghosts of Pain (6) :: The Letter

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