unfortunately, that wasn’t the last
and i fear that this may be the first
in many more —
poems to write and sketches to crumple
and i fear you’ll know
how much this pen yearns to splatter —
its ink o’er the counter
of what can pass through and what cannot
i simply know this is as far as i can go
too near, too far
perhaps these letters ought to be unreadable —
that no one else may see what words ought to say
i deem you imperfectly good
a great subject to sculpt,
for these short fingers of mine —
can barely replicate from my memory of you
your edges dulled —
the light reflects of what is left of you
all your scars, all your stars
they make you humanely lovable
and with this, i end —
in haste and hesitation,
_this longing for you._
Oct 14, 2025
Oct 14, 2025 at 11:17 AM UTC
unfortunately, that wasn’t the last
and i fear that this may be the first
in many more —
poems to write and sketches to crumple
and i fear you’ll know
how much this pen yearns to splatter —
its ink o’er the counter
of what can pass through and what cannot
i simply know this is as far as i can go
too near, too far
perhaps these letters ought to be unreadable —
that no one else may see what words ought to say
i deem you imperfectly good
a great subject to sculpt,
for these short fingers of mine —
can barely replicate from my memory of you
your edges dulled —
the light reflects of what is left of you
all your scars, all your stars
they make you humanely lovable
and with this, i end —
in haste and hesitation,
_this longing for you._
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