Coming Undone

I hate waiting for the mail to come.
Bills run, letters amble.
Where are you dear? I’m coming undone.

You’ve gone away. You promised a letter for me.
A letter to explain; this talk was a preamble.
I hate waiting for the mail to come.

I visited my mother. She asked for a harmony,
But I couldn’t sing; my voice is a bramble.
Where are you dear? I’m coming undone.

I had to get away. I took a trip to the sea.
I talked to a stranger but my talk was a ramble.
I hate waiting for the mail to come.

Your letter finally came. I tore it open happily.
In your careful handwriting, a message to unscramble.
Where are you dear? I’m coming undone.

I wrote you back. My words formed a plea.
My mother said loving you was a gamble.
I hate waiting for the mail to come.
Where are you dear? I’m coming undone.