Burn them
The letters I gave
You never read them anyway
Burn them
The poems I made
It was all a part of yesterday

You never knew
How much every word meant to me
More than it ever did to you
You never knew
How every response you say
Is silence, to me,
Easily blown by the wind away.

Unread them, unremember,
If possible.
I do not want to remember
How foolish I was to write you
All of my heart
In pieces of paper.