I chanced upon
a letter of sorts
tossed carelessly
in a random pile
not any particular reason
to be of importance, just

It was from someone
I used to know, someone who
used to write me, sealed with wax
ruby red, with a scent of
with her name adorning
her long strokes, running
not anything I would mistake
for anything to read,

I hesitated to open it
my long knife, waited
to slice into the past
one fell swoop, one stroke
just one movement,
her hands on mine,

She told me of her life
not in any one letter,
chapter by chapter,
the strokes became longer
then shorter, then
she questioned my intentions
was I planning on loving her?

All of my plans
laid out on my desk
my birth, my life, our meeting
our,
I shuffled and sorted
the past, present, the time spent
the time waiting
her answer for me,
in the next letter

I searched and searched
tossed with a frustrating manner
read all of the past, right up until
the letters, her letters
not in any of the order in my
life, scattered, disjointed,
lovingly penned, long legs
wrapped around my memory
fading, fading

It was nothing, you see
her last letter to me
existing only, the last sentence
the last letter, the long strokes
the ink ran alongside the paper,
the doubt grew, as all hope diminished

My plans missing
the one link, the connecting chain
the bridge between then and now
her letters gone lost, gone lost

I chanced upon
a letter of sorts
without finding its partner
the one that linked
her to I, my past to hers
our present,

Our present
together, lost
her letter to me,
lost as well…

This piece is the work of Notthedane56. You can find a lot more of his poetry, fiction and humor on his main site Everything in and around Denmark and on his new blog My House at the Sea.