I wake up writing things
\nto myself.
\nIs there no one I can write to?
\nNo one dear enough
\nthey\u2019d read my words
\nand love me anyhow?
\nI have become so involved
\nwith my involvement,
\nthat people have wandered away.
\nI am not the child they knew.
\nThe man they knew.
\nThe customary, ordinary person
\nthat spoke to them
\nand shared their thoughts.
\nI have made different friends,
\ncats, elephants, birds,
\ntrees that lean patiently in the wind,
\nbut they do not read the written word,
\nso I have no addresses
\nto send my postage to,
\nexcept pillows I stuff letters in,
\nand read when I wake up.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I wake up writing things to myself. Is there no one I can write to? No one dear enough they\u2019d read my words and love…<\/p>\n