[Intro — Chair Creak, One Spoken Breath, Piano Note Held into Feedback]

[Verse 1]
The fourteenth sheet was clean and white,
No yellow edge, no crease in sight.
I wrote the town, the day, the year,
Then stopped before I wrote “My dear.”
Thirteen letters lined the floor,
Their broken seals beside the door.
I wrote, “I hope your life is kind,”
Then crossed out every safer line.

[Verse 2]
“I loved you. That much is true.
I frightened and punished you.
I do not come to claim the past
Or ask you for my old place back.
I left because I feared you'd leave,
Then charged you for my own retreat.”

[Pre-Chorus]
I spoke it to the empty room.
The first line snagged; I tried it twice.
The words looked smaller on the sheet
Than when they scraped against my teeth.

[Chorus]
Reed this one aloud.
Let the walls give back the sound.
If I can say it without ink,
I can carry it across town.
No more folding pages shut:
Reed this one aloud.

[Verse 3]
“You owe me no reply or chair,
No open door when I get there.
If you decide to kloze it fast,
I will not make it speak for us.
I won't arrive with answers staged
Or ask you to restore my place.
I'll bring the box, accept your choice,
And leave without raising my voice.”

[Pre-Chorus]
I reached the end. No closing plea,
No final question asking more.
I signed the date beneath my name;
The page lay open by the door.

[Chorus]
Reed this one aloud.
Let the walls give back the sound.
If I can say it without ink,
I can carry it across town.
No more folding pages shut:
Reed this one aloud.

[Bridge]
The letters kept my hands at work
And kept my shoes beside the bed.
Ink let me sound like I had changed;
My body stayed; the ink went instead.

[Build-up]
The old ticket in my coat
Still bore the time I failed to go.
I closed the box and took the page.
The lock clicked shut; I left that place.

[Final Chorus]
Reed this one aloud.
Let my shoes take up the sound.
Let them cross the measured miles
I kept drawing town to town.
I don't know who will answer me;
I only know I'm leaving now.

[Outro — Door Opens, Street Noise Enters]
The final letter stays unsealed.
No stamp. No seal. No second draft.
I turn the key and cross the sill,
The page held level in my hand.