Empty Mailboxes

Could my eyes deceive me?
Could it really be your reply?
I had waited so long.
I knew I was waiting long.

I knew because I could feel
The cold turn warmer
And the winter trees come alive.
It's been too long.

Anyways, I responded.
But when I did I noticed something.
The rush is gone.
That klutzy, excited response, gone.

That feeling in which I
Never rid myself of.
That interest and mesmerizing.
I don't light up anymore.

When the wind blows I feel more hollow.
When the sky is cloudy and drops emerge,
I feel a sad nostalgia.
But I don't miss it.

The swings empty,
My feelings for you deserted.
I began to stop waiting.
My distractions spread like mold.

It's very simple,
My eyes are amids the smoke of a distant fire.
I've become tired of waiting
By empty mailboxes.
The wind has moved me on.