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Mar 2016
The third time writing you a letter
It's getting darker, the weather worse
I'm trying to get across all of my feelings
It's the third time it wouldn't work
The lights, they flicker, my heartbeat silent
As the hurt builds in my head
And I'm wondering if there's violence
Just hoping you aren't dead
You've been missing, for a while now
And this exercise of writing is so absolutely futile
Because there's no address, no location
No means of tracking, no simple stations
On the radio where once I heard the music of your voice
Only the sounds of your mother, sobbing at your choice
I can hear her, so very softly, withering away
As day in and day out we wait for any sign at all
Waiting for a message or a letter, or god forbid the fateful call
Third time writing you a letter, maybe one I'll never get to send
The postmaster just returns it
When the address line says lover and best friend
Timothy Kenda
Written by
Timothy Kenda  Worcester
(Worcester)   
448
 
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