Written February 2001
I found a love letter
Lying on my front door
But when I looked around
I didn't see anybody.
A rush of excitement and delight
Ran from my fingers to my veins
As I pick up the white paper
And smelled its sweet fragrance.
Before I open it, I hesitated
To read its contents
For it wasn't addressed to me
Nor to anyone else.
But curiosity got the better of me
And held my breath as I read
The words are sweet and lovely
And somehow sounded familiar.
As I finish up the letter
I knew it wasn't truly for me
I recognized the writing and the words
Because the writer of the letter was me!
YOU ARE READING
PARTS OF MYSELF
PoesíaPoems written long ago, When internet was still boring, When the TV was broken, When I was still a virgin-- on the ways of the world mentally; physically; And words were my only friends.
