and I write them.
love letters to strangers,
I support the troops,
I organize a drive,
I make out letters to faceless people,
knowing not the strength of their smile,
but imagining the topography of their hearts,
of their hearts,
I pencil out conversations,
that don't matter,
in order that they know that they matter,
if only to me,
I compliment strangers,
I tip more then the bill,
and I am a face less white girl,
who seemingly has got her things in order,
see my left hand, I've hid my right.
and as they rationalize these random acts of kindness
the gestures,
that I want to matter,
I wonder if they think of me?
I write love letters to strangers,
because their easier to love,
then myself,
I write love letters to strangers,
because I 'm not willing to start one to me.