Old Joy

I wrote a letter to someone.
But I never sent it.
I was upset and I have a way with words.
Power of life and death in this here tongue.
And I decided I should use it for good.
So I kept my mouth shut.

I thought that was growth.

And instead I wrote a much shorter message making my point succinctly, free of accusation and still loving.

And the response was that of gratitude.
And a remark that my words were very kind.

I think people are smarter than we give them credit for.
I think they know when they're undeserving.

I'm not really sure why but it reminded me of an email I sent six months ago.

I must have written, I don't even know how many drafts. At least, like, three. I kept writing and rewriting. I was so hurt and so angry. But everytime I tried to write I'd go back and read it and I wasn't saying what I really wanted. I remember realizing everything I wrote sounded mean and was intended to hurt. And I hung my head in disappointment. As much as it would gratify me for that moment, I couldn't do it.
So I composed a new letter that still stated I was hurt but that I knew in spite of that, they were still an amazing person. And that I still believed in them.

I never got a response.

But what could somebody say to that?
I know all you are, all you've done and said and it still doesn't shatter my affections.
Whose strong enough to accept such love?

I'm glad for the times I choose kind words.
I'll never regret being loving.
Whether or not people receive it.

It's still who I am.