The Letter (An Original Poem)

I found a letter,
The last one he wrote,
Quite a few years ago;
The paper was crumpled,
The ink got smeared,
Stains of some liquid -
Those must have been tears,
Maybe his,
Maybe someone else's.

I overflew the letter
And found words so unfamiliar,
So I started to read
The pages of three;
From the beginning
To the ending,
His lines sounded sad;
Between those lines,
I heard cries for love,
He really cared,
I didn't know.

What was he thinking?
I thought to myself,
What was he thinking
While writing this letter?
Did he think only of me?
Or was there something else?
I believe there was,
For his lines sounded so sad;
Desperately longing for a love,
That I didn't know existed.

As I finished reading,
I thought of throwing it away,
To forget what might have been;
But inside I felt
As sad as his words sounded,
As I stopped to bin the letter,
So I kept it,
Putting it in a safe place,
And realizing that I had missed
What has been right in front of me,
Before he had left.