Page 30 - The First Letter To My Lady.

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M A Y 2 0 2 1

Pages turned; years turned too. Patience yearned at the cusp

of agony spurned.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. “Bzzzzzz”, it

went, like clockwork signifying the homecoming of another

dawn, another day. Blurry all the same, mornings were an

atrium to another parroting echolalia. Another trip around

life’s carousels & their horses, forever spinning round in a

routine rigmarole. It was the age of non-social socialization.

It was the age of stratospheric numbers, the age of masked

survival.

“I get my love in a digital package.”

There was a lot to be said about you, to you. But how? What

words would, could, mean anything other than another

‘Bzzzzzz’? Long-winded poetry had come before, but how

many times the same medium? Frankly, I feel torn apart at

the seams - drowned in the defeating recursiveness of the

wait & the writing of these letters only to keep to myself.

You’ve become my diary now.