Letters

The letters that I write,
To nameless people and I,
Overflow with emotions,
Abundant with affection,
And of all those other things that
I can never give or get.

My pen glides along the paper,
Ink staining the white with colour,
Writing out words that promise of
Love, happiness, warmth, comfort,
And of all those other things that
I can never give or get.

The papers caress the tips of my fingers,
As tender and gentle as a lover's.
I wonder how does it feel like to
Hold someone's hands, hug them,
And do all those other things that
I can never give or get.

Those envelopes are then hidden,
Stowed away, slowly forgotten.
I sit down and pen yet another letter,
Taking my time to imagine what it
Would be like to love and be loved,
And of all those other things that
I can only give and get
Through these letters.