There is an unopened letter,
there in that box,
I recognize the writing,
It's mine.
No need to open it,
I remember what it says,
It felt true back then,
But I don't feel it anymore.
There is nothing but regret,
sealed in there now,
Inside of me,
Inside of us.
Regret that you never read it,
While it still rang true,
Regret that it was ever written,
and left behind.
Should just tear it up,
but it would be like tearing myself up,
Even though it is no longer me or you,
It was once.
Once we filled a page beautifully,
articulately,
Now we are just a mass,
Forgotten words and feelings,
Sealed inside an envelope.
I suppose it is a time capsule of sorts,
But there is no joy in reopening it,
Just the familiar feelings of failure,
I think I'll pack it back away....
