i want to write you a letter -
you know the kind, the ones you see after a funeral,
the ones that say too much because no one knows the
difference between too much and not enough,
the ones that only surface because their authors
have solid confidence that their recipients will never see them.
the thing is, that won't be happening.
you won't die, and i know this because i am never wrong,
and when i set my mind on something, i'm not letting go.
my point: this is your posthumous,
maybe just humous
letter from me to you, and i'd ask you what you think of it,
only i'm not sure if that's the protocol
(or proper etiquette) for such a letter.
you're not someone i expect to forget.
my memory might be comparable to that of an elephant,
but an elephant's memory is entirely independent from
the beauty of its sad eyes and great ivories.
what i mean is i don't forget beautiful things,
and beautiful things are impactful things, re