Letters for a Lost Cause

My dearest Poetry,

I cannot comprehend you.

You break the white screen,

And then bid a bitter adieu.

I do not know where you go,

Or how you bide your time,

I do not know when you will knock,

Upon my faithful spine.

 

My dear Poetry,

You are but a grey pimpernel.

Despite your extended absences,

Our conversation stays eternal.

The wine is in the glasses,

Your lipstick spells you sipped,

I keep the candle lit in the day,

In hopes you make a trip.

 

Dear Poetry,

I admit I am tired,

I worked to be verbose,

Because you, I admired.

It seems I lost the rhyme,

And spent more time than I could spare,

Upon a vending machine,

That taxed me on nothing there.

 

Hey Poetry

It has been a while.

How are you doing?

What is on in your life?

 

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