Second Draft
Second draft –
Well I make it this time?
Well I write you a letter?
Well I somehow find the courage to write
what I am really thinking – feeling?
I always start with good intentions.
Determined to match your literary masterpiece,
with a creation of my own,
penned on fine, linen paper,
with black Indian ink.
But somewhere between the date and Dear,
I get lost.
I forget how to say the things I want to say.
I forget how to be brilliant, witty, and charming.
Instead, I suddenly long for simple words.
I do not want to complicate my thoughts with
metaphors and similes.
I do not care if I am quotable,
or even original, in my delivery.
I just want to say it.
I just want you to hear me.
I just want it to be alright.
Why won’t you let me write it?
Why can’t we say it?
Why do we have to be so proper?
Oh no –
This cannot be.
I hesitated.
The ink on my pen has dried.
Once again,
I am consumed with the need to tear the paper in two,
and start again.
Can it be, that I can no longer even finish
a simple line of prose?
Am I so afraid that you will read between these lines,
that I cannot finish this simple exercise in writing?
Do I start again?
Or do I merely let my mind wonder?
Shall I sit here, instead of writing, and simply imagine?
How freely could my words flow, if you were here tonight;
instead of locked away in a world,
where I can only reach you with paper and ink?
If you were here tonight,
would you not look into my eyes
and demand that I tell you how I feel?
This will never do.
I have said too much.
I am sorry.
Third Draft –
