As Text from the Past

You hand me a letter
of what I know it contains.
It is full of heartbreak
and unrequested pain.
It tells of the reasons
and explains the excuses
of why we should run
away from the muses.
It expressed the feelings
in words unworthy
so a face-to-face encounter
full of controversy
won't have to occur
or happen between us,
as the easy way out
is your preference of choices.
You hand me this paper
and stand before me
awaiting my reading
that will not happen quickly.
I put it down
on the ground by my side
with intentions of reading
when the pain no longer resides.
I'll let you walk away
without my knowledge of the contents
where explanations arise
that are nothing but nonsense.
I'll read it in the future
as text from the past
because it's too hard in the present
that came to be too fast.