The Last Love Letters

These are love letters I kept writing, this year. They are in haiku form and originally tweets from my twitter feed. 

Yes, I had someone on my mind when I was writing them, but not always the same one. And because I believe that love letters, one or the other way, always one day return to sender, they are, I guess, love letters to myself, too.

 

4th November

My dear, there’s no truth

that comes like a summer breeze.

They’re all autumn storms.

 

My dear, tender is

the night with the hours ahead,

brutal with those back.

 

10th November

My dear, late at night,

almost midnight, and banned words

escape from prisons.

 

13th November

My dear, a cold day,

one more winter, then one more…

Never is so long.

 

14th November

My dear, this winter,

I’ll use the clear morning sky

as my heart’s blueprint.

 

18th Novemeber

My dear, Sehnsucht hides

in the fog that has covered

this cold night’s full moon

 

23rd November

My dear, the night leaves

behind a silence for us

to break with a sigh.

 

3rd December

My dear, it’s this hour

where darkness is still so kind

and shares a last dream.

 

4th December

My dear, how often

has the night kissed you and me

goodbye but came back?

 

My dear, last dream was

a boneless world where one could

change the shape of all.

 

15th December

My dear, clear moon night,

like ironed white Sunday shirt

on a wooden chair.

 

My dear, why not use

the words of songs when tired?

Be kind, love. Repeat.

 

11th December

My dear, I can’t stop

writing love letters. I guess

they keep me going.

 

My dear, it happens

without a warning, at night,

sleep leaves and you’re there.

 

My dear, it feels like

a sudden gust of sorrow;

waves on the dark lake.

 

My dear, in the end

what will we be thinking of?

It’s all in the fog.

 

16th December

My dear, people try

every day to remember

how it is to be.

 

17th December

My dear, when we see

we also see the others

seeing us seeing.

 

My dear, my hand writes

and your eyes follow the lines

because you can see.

 

19th December

My dear, a sorrow

when looking for words at night

wakes us up asking.

 

23rd December

My dear, the long nights,

like dark clouds around the house,

a light in each dream.

 

26th December

My dear, quiet nights

bear our words and trade them for

moon, wind, stars and snow.

 

27th  December

My dear, we search for

traces of others, long lost;

we dream of footprints.

 

My dear, the year ends,

last letters must be written;

no lists, no wishes