letter
tucked away in the desk drawer.
she wrote
it and left it on my
pillow some years
ago.
it's not working out,
she wrote.
i'm not who you thought
i was,
and you're not who
i believed you to be.
so it's best that we go
our separate ways.
we gave it a shot, but
it just didn't work out.
the paper seems dappled
with dried tears
which makes me
read between the lines
again.
i know what
she was really trying to say.
i love you more than
anything.
i can't wait to get home
and hold you in
my arms.
everyday i thank my lucky
stars to have
found you.
i fold the letter
and put it back
in the drawer.
i wonder sometimes
where
she is now.
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