You can read my text
You can like my text
You can comment on my text
You can even hate my text
But understand these compositions aren’t for you
They’re for me... and her.....but mostly me.

Sometimes I read them as if I was brave enough to send them
Sometimes I read them in her voice, in my head
Sometimes she smiles and laughs, still in my head
Sometimes she just sighs and fakes a laugh
If in my head I picture her with much scorn I tear it up and start again

I wonder if she’d like these thoughts
I wonder if she’d like me more
I wonder if she also writes
Her love letters were so beautiful, of this I am sure