for you

for you i have a bundle of

folded up memories,

tied up with a strand of twine and secured so neatly with a bow,

sorted at the bottom of a drawer

where the tape peels away

and edges of aged paper

begin to curl,

a ‘to burn’ note attached

and as for what is left,

the things that don’t fit so neatly in

such a cliche,

like all this sopping feeling

and incoherence

you have left me here to deal with-

that is what comes rushing from my heart,

overflowing from deep beneath my ribs,

a corner that has long since darkened behind a cast of shadow

and become caught up within old cobwebs

but these letters that i piece together,

while admittedly quite haphazardly

and only ever in the dead of night,

are both momentos of a past we both share

and confessionals of suppressed loneliness

all done in vain

but these letters are not for you

i do not write for you

and yet, sitting with my bloodied finger tips,

if not for you, then who?