headTalk.

Its wetness permeating my skin
     now wrapped around me as a veil.

Solitude forming the disguise of comfort,
     choking my every breath.

Muting the pigment, slowing the pace,
     where mind controls span and reason.

Alone in woods where no other mortal can be found,
     my solitude.

I wrote you the other day but I’ll never mail this letter.  In it I bare my heart and reveal everything I feel about you.

I sealed the letter in a purple envelope, addressed and stamped it.  It sits on my desk now.  I remember what it says; I remember how I smiled while writing it.  I wanted you to be encouraged by the thoughts a person can hold for you.

I wanted to give you strength for the fight you’re up against.  You’d read it and tell me I’m wrong and you’re “fine”.  You always do try to be so tough.

Despite your display on the outside, I knew inside you’d be thanking me for the words you needed most to hear.

I’ll never mail this letter.  There’s no need to.  This letter is addressed to me.

My pain becomes me;
My fear, it shakes me.

But Your peace calms me;
Your love, it moves me.

And I am ever changed.