Last Of The Love Letters

I’ve written the last of my love letters
I would no longer have the hope
To put my heart into another
I’m becoming a silly old misanthrope
Those flowery words that refused to bud
I wish I still had that naivety
To believe what I was writing
But I can’t be so callow now I’m the other side of 30
The recklessness of youth
The caution of experience
My barely there confidence hasn’t aged well
In that, it has mirrored my appearance
I couldn’t allow myself to give my all away
I may dream but I barely think to hope
That anything good would possibly happen
From pouring my heart out into a bright white envelope