Letters undelivered

I wait for a thousand years
To see her by the horizon
Once again
I write her a thousand letters
She’ll never read and keep her memory
You may call me a coward
For not letting her know
But knowing sometimes more hurtful
Than letting go
I let her go, set her free
Trading my heart in her place
At her place I write the one letter
After the thousand, would it be the last?
I doubt it
You may call me a coward
For not leaving a note
Before disappearing in the rain
Melting on the road sides
I leave
Loving her to eternity
That’s the story short
In its entirety.

January 24, 2018

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About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
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