When i do travel i rarely converse with anyone around me, i walk as much as i can and imagine what people are thinking,what they just left from? what they are going back to? Ive seen every emotion on people talking on those ear pieces; recently on a cab ride to JFK , at a crossroad on any giving street I saw a letter/envelope fall from a coat worn by some random person crossing the street and i wondered what that letter said… Here is what i think it said..
When it does find you, I hope it’s not too late. I hope in that moment I will know when you open the envelope of the old snail mail and smell the slight fragrance of me. I will hope to take in a breath at that same time, I will hope and wonder what you will find.
I know I was greedy, maybe way too selfish. You see the world I grew into – thrown into – is a world of illusion, a place where knowledge and culture is shunned and foolish, sly nature is glorified, where your success is determined by wealth and little to no thought is given to how you attained it even if it means thievery.
I wish in that moment to wonder along with you as your eyes scroll through my writing,
how you can communicate in 1000 words with just one glance towards me.
I told you once that, ” I am not scared of death or no longer those foot steps from my perpetrator that I ran so fast from as a girl.”
If this letter finds you at all, I hope you read it. It may all sound sad or bitter to you, however, know that it’s far from it. I have much hope along my evolving way.
Life has been fair and is often good to me, and if I never find my way home from running away, I want you to remember that our short lived dream spent here is/was beautiful enough to hold me until the other side.
I saw your face in another. I turned away confused and embarrassed because it gave me a picture to put with the soul I dream of, the one I walked with into the river of time as the world around us slept, the one I failed in my arrogant ignorance.
Please God, Guad, Mahayo, Buddaha, please don’t say it’s too late.
When the letter turns to words and paints a picture, maybe call me, text me. I live amongst fields of masked and blank faces. They’re a home now for me, my home now without you is a no mans land, as I fear it will always be. Regretfully, there are so many different worlds –
so many different souls…
All I need is but just one: You – to share – to find my way back home.
My wants, hopes, and pleasures lie with knowing that you will read my words.
My biggest fear is that you will never open it and see how I truly feel – walking away into another kiss, a hug, all the unknown, known, demons of desire.
Just maybe tomorrow you will read my words, just maybe I will find my way home, just maybe tomorrow I will arrive at your door.
I hope you don’t say it’s too late………
Always from a time long ago,