I find myself in this position yet again
Writing a letter I'll never send
It'll sit on my desk then in my drawer
And eventually end up in the trash
I scrawl it out in informal pencil
Because my tears would bleed the pen
And would make barely readable chicken scratch
Become smeared, smudged and completely illegible
I pour out my heart and soul to you
And then I lose my nerve
I want you to know all these things
But I wish you could without being told
So I find myself in this position again
Sealing an envelope and writing an address
Wanting you to know and losing my nerve
And writing a letter that I will never send
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
I find myself in this position yet again
Writing a letter I'll never send
It'll sit on my desk then in my drawer
And eventually end up in the trash
I scrawl it out in informal pencil
Because my tears would bleed the pen
And would make barely readable chicken scratch
Become smeared, smudged and completely illegible
I pour out my heart and soul to you
And then I lose my nerve
I want you to know all these things
But I wish you could without being told
So I find myself in this position again
Sealing an envelope and writing an address
Wanting you to know and losing my nerve
And writing a letter that I will never send
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