Reading love letters I never had the courage to send.
I press my back against the wall and imagine his voice whispering my words.
I wonder if he would have noticed the lined paper was full of tears and joy.
Black fingertips line the tips
Evidence of smeared makeup
I wonder if he would of felt the way I was feeling
Beautiful words masked desperation
In need of his sexual healing
It was appeasing — to me
These boxes full of letters that would never reach the intended receiver
I surrendered countless times
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