I still hear your name,
when I'm in a dark place,
comforting to think that
I'm on your mind,
wishful thinking,
without action,
I can't say I love you,
left of my own accord,
so I write silent letters to you,
with no postal stamp,
no to,
only from,
your one and only,
I still write numerous poems about you,
knowing you'll read them,
hoping you'll feel them.