Letters
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.