I promised myself
not to read more of your letters
until I wrote--
they had become
such a one-sided conversation.
There were efforts-
short words rubbing against other short words,
scrawled on paper,
piled in boxes,
saved in computer files.
The trouble is
what people write is
almost never what they really feel.
Humor can be deftly coupled
with the bleakest stuff in life
and who would ever know.
Even now I could tell you
twin kittens patter across the keyboard
chasing my fingers
and I must dust off a few keys
before I can continue.
You would laugh
and I would gain time
to backspace and delete.
Where is the risk
that we accept in face to face
communication?
Of course I am making lame excuses
I know that what you expect
is a simple shopping list of my day
and that I could easily deliver.
Only I want to say more,
only I can’t,
only I don’t know how,
only I’ve forgotten the words.
But you already know.
I should just commit and hit SEND.
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