As Time Slows Around Us [Poetry]

A Forgotten Poet

A forbidden letter in
A forgotten picture.
To look through it,
It is not wise.
But my eyes
Can't deny the want to read
The words of a forgotten poet.
The poet who, in himself
Was a hurtful,
Painful,
But hopeful poem.

The letter is to his lady,
The words are shady
And the paper is torn.
But the words of the poet
Who is a poem
Are angelic,
A relic,
Lost far into the paper's time.

There is no response from the lady,
And I wondered if she existed in the first place.
I wonder if his face was one of grace
Or malice
Or hurt
Or even as bright as the sun itself.

Or, maybe the poet who is a poem
Has forgotten his meaningful words.
Even though the birds
Sing his song
And carry his words of passion,
The poet who is a poem
May never receive a reply.
It is far too high
For any man to reach.