Writer's note: This is a epilogue of a poem I had made long before, but I don't want to post it yet. Maybe if anyone reads this, I will. (:

He woke up this morning from the night less sleep
Knowing not the response from his letter so deep
He saw something in the mailbox, a letter
In a familiar enveloped, marked return to sender
A note came on the corner side, seeming quaint
Marked with a P.S., and a message so faint
He knew her handwriting, it never did change
It made him nostalgic, but the message made him strange

It read, "I'm sorry I won't read this letter...
I miss it back then, but you and I can't be we.
I already know what reads, but I must be the setter.
I have to make your heart free of me.
Understand my position, together we can't stand.
It's more than the reason I cannot hold your hand.
Don't relive our past, and look onward to the fine line
But learn from the things from the words of mine.
Be sweet and sincere like you always are.
And remember people are always close, even if they seem far."

He read the response and couldn't think
He fell down to his bed and into the bed to sink.
He was sullen and sadden with his unread thought
His heart and his mind, and his tears he fought
But... he thought and smiled through
Because even if this was, he's happy for who
Who he became because of the events
When he could have been worse off, he became one of the gents
And he knows she means well for her action
Even if it'll be a while until the exit he can traction
"But... that's just fine,
Even if she will never be mine.
One day, maybe, through an action's chime
Maybe, someone meant for me, in due time."