When you don’t read my poems
I’m sad.
A day without your view
Definitely makes me un-glad.
I might as well write letters to
The dead, I know, I see
Still, your view, honestly
Means very much to me.
I speak to you like someone dead
I’d love to tell you this…
When I’m in gift shops, too, I see
I see these little gifts
Gifts I know you’d like that go
With things you have, your stuff
Gifts I’d like to get you but
That’d be too much.
So I write you here, I write you and
Am sad when you don’t see
The poems that I write, OK
This pretty, one-way speech.
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