Last Letter Poem by Nick Downer

Last Letter



It was tacked to the back
of your bedroom door.
On a piece of snow white paper,
with pale blue lines, scribbled in black ink,
were the words you could never say.
Words always come too late.
The room still feels silent and still
and your smell lingers on the breeze
coming through your open window.
'I felt no life left in me, '
words that jump from the page
and come alive.
It was still there.
I saw it when you smiled, just for me,
the other day.
Maybe it was an illusion,
because I wanted it to be there.
Now all I'm left with
is a crumpled piece of paper
beneath my fingers,
and smeared by tears
that have fallen from my face.

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Nick Downer

Nick Downer

Orillia, Ontario
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