Letters

The letters sit
collecting dust
untouched by human hands
for months

they sit in a small leather-bound box
trying to be forgotten
and so there they stay

I cannot bring myself
to throw them away
to burn them
to tear them to pieces
or to return them to her

and the letters sit
collecting dust
not letting themselves be forgotten

they are filled with happy words
smiles and memories of a summer
unlike all my others

it's masochistic

they dredge up so many memories
that will always be melancholy, red
no matter how sweet the words
but I still can't bring myself to dispose of them

the letters sit
collecting dust
not letting themselves
be forgotten