A LETTER IN MY SATCHEL

Barefoot, torn shirt, street by street I walk,
They burned my soul as I go along.
Knife is sharp, words sharper still,
My heart bleeds, broken and ill.

I sat down on a cold stone’s face,
So hungry for love’s embrace.
The light in my eyes has run dry,
You left me in darkness, no eyes to rely.

In my satchel, love letters lie,
I opened the blue envelope, lines hard to spy.
Tears have blurred the faint-written rows,
The poet wrote the lines, the heart wept so.

Will the sun rise again on my body?
Will the wounds in my heart find remedy?
Come not as a bandage, but as healing balm,
They stole the stars from my eyes; I’m in calm.

My body shivers in the gentle breeze,
Streets are crowded, yet I’m lonely with ease.
The satchel is heavy, the letters burn my heart,
Though every line, full of memories, burns my soul.