Streets pretty deserted this morning, just me and the dog walkers. The detritus of the night before, and something else, I pick it up. A handwritten letter fluttering amongst the cans, bottles and fast food packaging. The ink has been washed away by the rain in places, and elsewhere parts have been crossed out. A love letter, possibly unrequited. Either it was never sent or the recipient simply threw it away.
“I love you but I’m lost…”
Hand cannot erase this love.
Progarchy 