“I’m the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.”—Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters
Kindness and patience are the things
I wish to be most abundantly fluent in.
However, you make this very difficult.
I will not forget your spitefulness.
I can forgive, but I will not forget.
I wouldn’t expect either from you.
Hopefully we both grow in the interim,
although I will not count on you
ever smiling my way again.
We all seem to think that we, ourselves, are the only ones
I was always more likely to be left alone with a pen.
My love is different from yours.
Mine didn’t meet your expectations,
but unlike yours, mine will probably never end.