Maybe,
you’re right,
I’m just,
a sad,
pathetic,
oh woe is me,
little thing.
My half sized,
brain,
could never,
begin to,
comprehend,
such a thing.
It must be,
the size,
no,
smaller,
than a pea.
Because you,
you are,
OBVIOUSLY,
right,
right?
I mean,
who else,
could be?
Surely,
no way,
in hell,
Me.

I spit,
my tongue,
right out,
on the,
cold tile floor,
I couldn’t taste it.
You stared at me,
and it,
me,
it,
horrified,
practically disgusted.
“I thought,
that was gum,”
you said,
bewildered,
basically,
out of breath.
I would have,
answered,
but shrugged,
instead.

Hi,
nice to,
meet you.
I’m the,
disappointment,
your mother,
told you,
not,
to take,
in bed.
Instead,
you took,
a leapt,
and asked,
my hand,
to wed.
Do I,
say yes?
Or maybe,
*****,
on your,
clothes.
My favorite,
flowers,
are daffodils,
and daisies,
but they’re wilted,
and have lost,
their charm.
That should’ve,
been me,
instead.

I jumped,
right in,
this black hole,
of solitary,
confinement.
It’s nothing,
like the game,
of solitaire,
we’re not,
playing with,
cards here.
I held,
my breath,
and avidly,
did I,
long for,
oxygen.
I rolled,
the dice,
and begged,
please,
don’t be,
snake eyes.
Let me,
slither away,
to freedom,
and possibly,
enlightenment.
I’m not playing,
a game,
here,
I just,
forgot,
to hit,
save.

The eyes,
window,
to the soul.
Unfortunately,
yours,
are closed.
I peek,
I pry,
trying to,
catch a glimpse,
of what,
makes you,
glow.
Will you,
push back,
the curtains,
and crack,
the blinds?
Open,
the door,
to the beat,
of your heart.
I long,
to hear,
the sound,
of your,
world.

Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Because,
truth is,
I,
really don’t.
When the news says,
someone’s dead,
I look for,
your name,
instead.
Is that,
bad?
Possibly,
just sad?
It probably is,
but truth is,
I don’t care.
The scars you left,
wont wither,
until you taste,
the poison you,
hypocritically,
made for me.
Do you,
think of,
me,
the way,
I,
think of,
you?
Probably,
not.

I know,
it’s been,
some time.
I just wanted,
to write,
to see how,
you’ve been.
How’s the weather,
is the sun,
shining,
and the moon,
glowing?
Have you become,
the star,
you always,
hoped for?
Maybe you,
finally learned,
how to keep,
afloat,
and your head,
out of the clouds.
I hope this letter,
finds you well,
and maybe someday,
you’ll find,
your own way,
home.
Love,
Me.