Out from the Overflow

On September, you wrote a letter
Something about Love and Distance; your favorite line from a song
I’ve searched what I wrote mine on that same month
The closest date next to yours
But I can’t find it anymore

If those letters were for me
I’ll thank the mailman for tracking me down at the old street of a fifteen year old house
If those letters were for me
The same letters you sent last January and two years back
I’d gladly take it to the heart and let it touch the soul
If those letters are letters of Longing that was only denied because of Pride
If those letters were for me
Pain is an easy burden to consider
If those letters were Love letters
Sent to a third space apart from my world and yours
If those letters were for me
Those were the same letters I had been sending you

To say the least, I know to whom I send my letters to
I had always been writing you
I had always been making these sh*tty poems for you
These poems where I’m the only one who’s satisfied with my rhymes
Poems where I repeat every line of my first stanzas
Poems where I can say anything I wanted because I know how you won’t pay attention reading them

You’re not like me
You never intended to send your letters to me
Never was I an inspiration for your prose
‘If’ is just a word I used to show myself under my coat of Hope
To realize that there’s nothing more to hide when you’re in good terms with Metaphor
To reveal every Secret because no one will ever comprehend to learn its implications

On September, you wrote a letter
Something about Love and Distance
Today is my September

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