Your heart is a letter
You’d never send,
Bleeding out memories
Only time can lend,
Scrawled in your veins
It’s woven through,
Over years of your life
It’s become part of you,
Inked by thoughts, and
Scarred by fear,
Your letter remains
Genuine and sincere,
How long, I wonder,
Have you written this down?
All the joy that excites,
And the pain that can drown?
It’s difficult to hide,
All locked away out of sight,
The things that go on
Without a hinting insight,
With each fleeting moment
Jotted down in your heart,
How do you keep that inside,
Without falling apart?
Every passion, every grief,
Every feeling that arises,
Each and every small event,
And all it symbolizes,
With each heartbeat, a new line,
Is written in ink,
And set aside for later,
When later you can think,
Although you say what’s on your mind,
It’s barely half of it all,
For the things that really matter,
Are barricaded behind your wall,
You take note of all the details
And write down every change,
Making mental notes of every word
That you would say in an exchange,
But you haven’t said a thing at all,
Not a single spoken word,
Almost as if you’d rather not
Reveal what you have heard,
Instead you write it all down
To remember it for sure,
To keep track of all the things that
You and others have had to endure,
So why haven’t you sent it?
This letter from your heart,
And tell the world what you want to say
For your notes are only just the start,
You say it’s no big deal,
You’d just rather not let them see,
For those memories and emotions
Form the past, and aren’t for free,
Perhaps another reason
That you won’t care to express,
Is that after all your letter has more
Than one simple address.