Letter To Little Feather Poem by James Daniel Gabriel

I thought that it might help to write you a letter.
I have thought of pretending, that I could say all these things,
Or anything at all, and risk the possibility that you
May find the humanity to care.
You make me think in a way that does not allow time
For breath between thoughts.
It rambles. It whines. It chances. It fails.
It wins.
You are it, and I am hiding.
Just like you always said that I would.
As for chances,
What if this is mine?
This time, mine?
What if?

What would ending be like?
This just goes on.
Did you know that?
This burns.
Did you ask?
This leaps.
Did you look before you pushed me?
I left, at least-
You right,
Yet you still smother my little flame.

It does hurt.
I’m not strong enough not to call this pain.
I’m not healing enough,
to pretend or imply,
That this doesn’t bleed for hours at a time.
In public, In private,
In my dreams, In the beginning,
And what would it feel like to end this, really?

I know, you would agree,
I have been a little distant since I left you.
I don’t talk about my feelings much these days, eh?
I’m never around.
Its almost like I am not a part of our relationship at all, now,
Since I left?

You must have the same complaints now, don’t you?
Surely, you must recognize a few from the list above.
I can be so insensitive when I bleed like this.
I hate to write it all down, spell it out for you,
But I feel so inspired since you fist raped my emotions.
What can I do but bleed out loud,
In louder.

Hey, I just wanted you to know that I am still weak,
Like you said.
Need is a four letter word,
And sticks and stones and words choke me right to the marrow.
In case you wonder, It is often difficult to be me.
I wanted it to be mine,
Until I wanted it,
Worse still,
I needed it.
I lived for it.
I am continuing to die since I started living.
It’s a disease.
Its empty.
It’s a thousand things I am finding
It is so hard to say.
Especially when it is so hard to tell sometimes.

It’s more like a fable never allowed to be told,
But I made wishes for it.
In wells, at altars,
Looking at Santa, Whispering to stars,
I gave it time, and I gave it thought,
And then,
I gave it to you.

You took, and easily by your nature
So sincerely for granted.
I knew you wouldn’t be there when I fell,
So it is not meant as a surprise,
Just an understatement.
I almost hated myself,
Learning how to love from you, in
This bitter experience.

Thank you for the better experiences.
You may not need to hear all this,
An ego so frail as mine,
As you have-
But I needed to dropp this
Line to let you know that I hope I never heal.
I need to have this scar, to write this wound,
For me, for
You do not deserve it.

Take care.
Go (fly a kite by) yourself.
Say hello to your mother.
Smooches.