Snail Mail

I wrote the letter over and over.
Each time thinking this isn't enough this isn't right.
Stopping after each letter waiting for the phone to ring.
It has to ring,
it has to be him.
D .. E .. A .. R .. B .. R .. Y .. C .. E
*ring* .. *ring* but it's never him.
A week later, the letter is finished.
Is it a sign that the stamps are lost.
Home comes mom in hand a book of stamps.
So many identical squares to chose from.
None of the flags seem to say warning don't open.
I guess this is okay.
It's a community mailbox,
everyone puts their outgoing mail in the same small box.
So many anniversary cards or love letters could be surrounding this letter.
How awkward.
How wrong.
Such a lonely envelope simillarly filled with lonely words from a lonely soul.
Sitting at the bottom of a dark box with a slit just enough to light up his name.
Just enough.
There is always just enough light shed to show the bad.
And when the mail man picks it up
can he tell, that what he holds
carries bad news.