Post Script

Standard

I wanted–meant to tell you the other day,

the words tickling the edge of my throat

but my tongue tripped and stuttered,

and suddenly robotic I could not speak.

Utterly unable to utter the words as if

I couldn’t understand the language.

The reality much dumber, I was simple stricken.

so I wrote you a letter describing you,

drawing  your beauty with my words, and

tracing your shape with silent syllables.

The keyboard keys clicked on and on,

until my fingers were consumed in cathartic

release but still I didn’t say what I wanted to.

I finished the letter, printed it and signed it

with my name, and with bold red ink bleeding

my hopes and dreams unto the pristine paper

I penned, P.S. I love you.

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