Lesbian Poetry

The Letter

I took the pen in my hand and the words began to flow,
As tears mingled with the ink and fell in a motion, so slow.
They spread across the paper, a watery weave of spots
My fingers spasmed and the muscles tightened up in knots.

With a shaky hand the letters spilled out
black on white, across that sheet,
I wanted to shout, or to cry out
But all I managed was a pitiful bleet.

The words were incoherent,
halting and unclear;
And with each sentence came a new thought,
another memory and a tear.

I should have done this,
I should have done that,
I should never have gone away
I just know if I had done everything right then she would have wanted to stay.

So sighing deeply the words continued,
I told her what she meant
That every night I fell asleep,
with thoughts of her I dreamt.
My sentences cajoling, whining,
sparse and badly spelt,
then clear as a bell, scathing, angry,
letting her know exactly how I felt.

And then of course the words were written,
the horrors of my dreams,
And the ideas and thoughts to win her back,
the plans and the schemes

Followed by deflation,
A sense of nonchalance,
Because when I read it back,
It looked like utter nonsense.

So instead of mailing it to my lost lover
I placed it in the bin and pulled down the cover.
Out of sight, out of mind, the letter had been written
Now onto the next girl with whom I could be smitten.