il vous aime, c'est secret.

Dear you,

I remember the first letter I ever wrote to you -

it was simple, something like,

        "Dear you, I miss you. Sincerely, me"

it didn't mean much of anything
   just a simple letter, full of love
   and
   full of hope.

That's how all the first letters were:

                                 hopeful.

Hopeful that you'd respond,
     because back then
     you always responded.

I remember when the real letters started.
    The ones with no where to go.
    The ones I couldn't put an address on.

                                           The ones that were mostly angry -
                                           still filled with love, but angry
                                           and sad.

That's how all the later letters were:

         really sad.

Now my letters aren't so much angry anymore
             but they're still tear-stained
             and stacked with betrayal.

                                  Maybe the problem is
                                  not so much that you won't respond
                                  but that I have angrier letters to write.

                           And more people
                           to write to.

   And maybe
   I just miss writing words
   with love between them
   to you.

But maybe the real problem is
that the first letter I ever wrote to you
wasn't actually simple.

              The first letter I wrote to you was full of lies
                    was full of jealousy
                    was nothing but bitter resentment for a girl
                    who is dead
                    and is never coming back.

And maybe that's why
you never even bothered
to say goodbye,

                                                   because the first letter I ever wrote to you
                                                   was a eulogy for your heart.

Sincerely,
xx
Blue