Once I wrote a love letter, mind I have written a few
Before, but never sent them. I sent it as it encapsulated
my intense love for her, but also wrote it in the hope
she would come back. She did not, and over the years
the letter has haunted me. What if she didn’t destroy it
and threw it in the bin with a loathsome shrug, but kept
the words for someone else to read, because the letter
was sentimental crap and self-serving written by a loser
who could not let a defeat go. By chance I met her again,
that is, she met me as I could not remember her. Sophie,
my dear do you remember the letter I sent you? Said she,
she never received a letter from me, which gladdened me.
There is a woman in town who always smiles when she
sees me feeding the ducks in the park's pond. I return her
smile but speak not… my god did she receive it thinking it
was for her and has been burning her torch for me, a romantic
love story that has the sweetness of never being fulfilled?
