I’ve been dirtier than you wanna know.
I’ve omitted words that if you heard, would make you shake your head
So that your hair
Which I recall now in the silliest of detail,
Would waver and tremble,
Like my hands
But beautifully so.
You can keep telling me you’re doing alright, just busy y’know and stuff
And I’ll keep telling you I’m okay and disappearing into my baggy jacket and stuff
There is no need to voice the truth
Because it won’t bring you back
And there’s no point either
in coming out with long scrolls of jerky handwriting
That say nothing really,
because you can’t read it.
That’s the thing, Sunshine.
I write all these letters to you, I lick the stamp and post them
And when you sit there unfolding them
I want to tear my hair out
Because you can’t read.