I try to spin these unruly thoughts into gold
as I drag ink across paper,
the words arranging themselves both effortlessly and awkwardly,
as I try to spin unruly thoughts of you into gold.
That voice of yours seems to echo in my head,
uttering words unheard of
bouncing off what ifs and daydreams
you are hard to believe
I wanted to write you a letter
like the one you sent me,
the messy cursive words derived from all that you are
somehow my neat script never felt enough
I wanted to write you a letter
something that seemed like a first draft but wasn't
I don't know if you've read it already
part of me hopes you haven't
how would you react if I signed it with Yours instead of Sincerely?
Was I redundant? Did I sound like a child?
Sometimes I feel like one,
trying to comprehend a concept as vast as the universe.
I am in complete suspense,
waiting to hear from you.
It's the type of hopeless uncertainty that eats away
until you can't help but write a poem.
8/10/2020
