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Letters I write you all the time. I don't mail them... my letters, my words... anymore. They came back for a while, so I stopped. I thought there was, no reason left, to send my expressions of earnest emotions somewhere, anywhere... they would never reach you. But how else can I attempt to bring you back, to me. How else can I express, how much I miss you, and need you, and want you... in my life. You changed your address or simply stopped responding. I can live this way, as long as I know... you are okay. But to believe, you are lost, makes me want to try harder, to find you and keep you safe... from harm. The world will not let me, be... with you, as you... don't want to be... with me. I demand too much. I make you try hard. I don't let you give up. That makes me... mean. Or so it would seem.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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Date: 7/15/2022 3:13:00 PM
Ann, I really liked your poem and hope upon hope it is fictional. If it is true, coming from your good heart, I feel so sad. What an uncaring man he must be, so I think you are probably much better off without him. Just MHO!
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Ann Foster
Date: 7/15/2022 4:34:00 PM
Not fictional, but not me. A dear friend... in deep sorrows. We all feel love differently, and loss has a varied weight. Thank you for your ever-kind comments. May the Lord truly bless your day. Ann