the long letter

I write a long letter.
it says
everything I need to say.
everything
that has been said,
but needs to be said
one last time.
I rewrite it. I fine tune
it.
I add, subtract.
I emphasize what needs
to be emphasized.
self love. self love. I
dot the I's, cross
the T's.
it's a gentle letter,
a kind
piece of prose written
from the heart.
it's about healing
and moving on. letting go.
being grateful.
full of positive affirmations.
trust and faith.
I set it aside, then
go back to it. it's
tearless and concise.
rational and forthright.
it's encouraging and full
of spiritual insight.
it's nearly perfect.
there is nothing left
to say in this letter.
it should be saved
for years, laminated.
hung on a wall and framed.
but I don't send it.
I don't e mail it,
or put it in an envelope,
with stamp attached.
I just keep it where it
can be read whenever I
need it. in the drawer
where I sit and type.
it's a letter addressed
to me.