I've folded so slowly into myself.
Tucked emotions into creases,
crinkled corners stained from ink.

Fingertips tingle from the need.
Yet my hands won't gather intent,
my heart just beats,
and I'm here....but I'm not.

I used to bleed through ink,
Now I linger on the edge of verses.
My clockwork heart on the tip of it all.

I buried myself so deeply,
sealed envelopes with no postmark.
Destination void.

I'm not the same person anymore,
sunshine no longer warms me.
Letters go unsent,
remain unopened.