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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: By Maildots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: WolfStar
    ASL Info:    26/F/California
    Elite Ratio:    6.85 - 119/130/46
    Words: 322
    Class/Type: Poetry/Longing
    Total Views: 714
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2119



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsBy Maildots
    -------------------------------------------


    Who is to say
    what intentions
    I carry to the winds?
    If I send you a letter,
    a word,
    the smell of the wood
    in this new strange place
    how do I know it will be fresh
    when you tear the seal of its envelope?

    Or worse yet it arrives
    and you, breathless,
    reach for it in the letterbox
    only to find
    the view from my window shredded,
    the scent of my warm bed in tatters,
    the texture of my four white walls
    drizzled by the rain,
    because the mailman’s hapless fingers
    dropped the satchel containing
    all my hopes and intentions
    that fall on the wet pavement
    evermore disfigured
    by an accidental act of murder?

    Or even worse than this,
    that the exact color of my new world
    never comes to you, my love,
    lost somewhere
    in the abysmal pit
    where messages of every intention go to die:
    Dear Johns and bills, divorce papers, apologies too late,
    forgotten photos and Valentines?
    No, no! This is not the place
    for my carefully sealed heart
    that must brave the many thousand miles
    before it reaches your safe and warm embrace.

    Who is to say
    what minor calamity may befall us,
    when distance is more than distance,
    when no number of words will resolve
    what one kiss will melt in moments?
    Who can know, my love,
    what turn that little letter will take
    as the enormity of reality
    crushes its tiny folds?

    My only comfort
    (as I am wracked with worry
    for that heroic little slip of paper)
    is that you might know,
    no matter how it comes,
    whether whole or in tatters,
    shriveled or rain-weary,
    or perhaps not at all
    that you knew my meaning,
    my hopes and intentions
    that tried to beat the worst of odds
    to deliver one message,
    small but vital to the beating heart:
    my love, my love
    is coming home to you.




    Submitted on 2010-02-13 17:09:46     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      this is metaphorically wonderful--
    the mailman drops my intentions on wet pavement...

    and what you get is something less than what i actually sent...
    i hope you realize i tried to tell you i love you...


    love by mail...postage due...and the mail can be so painfully slow...

    i really like this piece...

    i am liking your work.

    jacob
    | Posted on 2011-04-14 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]


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