Requiem I

Written through a feather quill
I select thoughts
of my mistake
of my yearning
of my wanting
of my waiting
of your love
and scar the white parchment.
It has done me no wrong
and I have done it no good.
It bleeds jet-black.
Laid in an envelope
sealed in scalding scarlet wax
I send you my letter.
Only now did I realize
I forgot to put the stamps.