Letters

Letters are still kept

Inside the ramshackle drawer 

Of your room, 

Followed by the rickety stairs, 

Which we had once gone up, 

And made love.

Forlorn sheets of paper drifting from one corner to another, 

Like long lost forgotten souls. 

Like the memories hovering in my head. 

And the wall full of photographs, 

Are they still there, 

Waiting for us

To come back from day's work, 

And fiddle with the lock, 

As we begin to undress each other?

The world outside would fall apart. 

In our little world, we'd dance

And drink enough to pass out,

Enough to dream away.   

Now that years have gone

Realizations haunt, 

Like sudden departures;

We've fallen apart, like the world outside. 

We've drifted away. 

And I'd visit that room

For one last time, 

Undressed, 

Caressing my breasts, 

While reading the letters 

From your ramshackle drawer 

That still remains.