Letter upon letters filling my mailbox,
Who's addresses to you base yourself at. Do you have all the keys to the doors and locks.
So much mail in my mailbox of just blank spaces,
The postman tied them in a nice bow with one string, hoping I wouldn't see the lies in the letter's faces.

O' my, I hate to read long lines upon lines of people never coming in person to say such in flesh.
You tell me many things happening in your life and never once asked about me. Yet told me of your wife's new dress.
Yes you did once come to visit but to visit the visuals on my TV screen.
Do you really know if I had all the funds this month to pay for the lights in that Square box, or all the pain that came in between.

Yet you still would send me more empty mail as if it would be better.
I love the nice words you would use to throw me off track from The Truth in your every letter.

But it has come to me that people who go for so long with never touching home will fall so distant.
To only recognize you when the memory were finally to arrive. When you remember of my existence.

Yet I'll still wish you the best dear old friend, for you're always stuck to my heart and mind.
You may be gone for so long, but never shall we leave our best memories of the best times far behind.