A Letter I Will Never Send


Dear Mister,

I miss you. The way I miss winter’s breeze.
More than I miss autumn’s falling leaves.

You meant a lot to me.
A friend, a teacher, a fantasy.

I never thought after a year, I’d miss you.
I never thought I’d say: Where’s ”You know who”?

What we had was beautiful.
So was what we never did.
So is what we never will.

It needs two to love,
Sensibility and craziness too.
But we both did the thing that’s right to do.

Even then our eyes revealed,
What we said when our lips were sealed.

We were too similar to have a chance.
we wanted immobility in the depth of the dance.

We knew it was impossible, so we didn’t try.
We kept it inside and we acted shy.

They say: ”You won’t regret the things you did, but the things you didn’t do.
Will you Mister, regret not hearing my ”I need you”s.

You thought I was too strong to be that young.
I thought I shouldn’t mess up your life because that’s wrong.

You looked happy, sustained and Oh! so in love.
I couldn’t be your eternity, or your gift from above.

Sometimes we’d be weak, slip, and show.
Share some gazes in rain or snow.

I used to intimidate you to see if you cared.
And you showed me so indirectly, you would if you dared.

I remember that look that awakened things untold,
Things that shouldn’t be thought by a 17 year old.

Do you remember me? Your Miss ”Why don’t you say hi?”?
The blushes of my cheeks when you’d say goodbye?

I wonder where on earth you could be?
And whether you used to or still think of me?

I miss you Mister ”Don’t lean on the wall.
I miss your shy steps and silent calls.

I miss our private bubble in the middle of a crowd.
And your frown when you’re angry or sad.

I know I shouldn’t miss you but I couldn’t stop my heart,
from aching today, when your car wasn’t in the parking lot.

I shouldn’t miss my silly excuses to talk to you.
Or Sundays’ skies that somehow seemed more blue.

As for my last sentences my Mister, they’ll be discrete.
For all the memories and the nostalgia for the last seat.

With my love I’ll finish and hope to mend,
My heart, because this letter, I’ll never send.


Your Mistress


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