Monday, March 15, 2010

" I have this which you won't read. Whatever form of words I find, it will make no difference- there's nothing more you'll let me say to you. I work in invisible ink, unsay myself in rooms I don't want and don't know and I keep ahead of the road to stay ahead of so much silence, to be beside you in this one way, travelling as I know you're travelling, running.

I never was sure what we believed in, except each other, but since I am helpless and you may be too, I make us a prayer every night which asks if you could be happy, if you could be safe. Then I would have almost enough.

My love never was any better than that."

-  fourletterword

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