Letters to Myself

You know,
I've written the letters to myself,
incoherent, messy, torn.
They chart a story
that winds around my wrist
and writes out missing pieces
in my heart, in my mind
in the very body which contains
no soul. It writes out pain,
anguish and loss.

But you'll never see this.
You'll never read
my letters to myself.
Because they are broken
and incoherent and messy
and torn.
And you wouldn't understand.
You wouldn't, you wouldn't
see the words the way I do.
You wouldn't get my story.
You wouldn't see it my way.