Anthology of dreams (drownedinwords) wrote, @ 2005-03-20 22:19:00

Letter

I am trying to improve
I only want you to be happy

So I have made amends, or tried,
and all my tomorrows are become
promises and pleas
to some criteria
on brass thrones

And I have tied my own strings
to the rafters
where these things which
did not matter to me before I found
guilt in my toy box
wait with fingers made for the piano
with hands made to play me
and make me dance
along the empty street

to an air-conditioned office
with a well-upholstered chair
where the phone is ringing
ringing
where the phone is ringing
where the phone
is never answered.

I have no words in that place
and my ears are numb to the sound
of them waiting to be said
and I am happy,
staring at this birthday card you sent.