I poured my heart out,
Put my heart on the line.
I wrote my feelings down,
Thinking you would understand.
I tried to be positive, and honest.
I told you how I felt,
How I felt about what you did.
About what you said.
What was I thinking?
I was naive enough to think you would read it, let alone care.
I thought you would be sorry, and realize what you have done.
You have dishonest me, disappointed me, and hurt me.
But there are many ways to be, to get, and to hurt.
You can hurt with words, with actions, and with your fists.
But I am not allowing you to hurt me.
Not anymore.
What if you pick up the letter, and read it?
What if you think about it, and drop a tear on the paper?
What if you feel my pain, through the words?
But those are only 'what if's'.
Because it is like writing poetry for someone who can not read.
