Return Address

I wonder which of my letters
are lost to you
Lying this moment
in the dusty confines
of some dead letter office
between here and there
Thoughts that spun in my head
for you
to weave into the fabric
of us

Lost now, plane crashed enroute
Metaphorically gone with no survivors
smouldering wreckage
forgotten before remembrance
Death before birth
The soiled curled corners
of what you need to know
crushed between the misaddressed
others, stamped occupant unknown
Crushed, spindled and mutilated

I'll get a stamp, linger for a moment
before mailing to imprint
the full return address
The need to touch your mind
too strong before
Just a scribbled name and city
More info in the upper left corner
My center centered in your name
'till now
The rest just maintenance, done badly

And anyhow, perhaps I got it wrong
Rushing some transposition
of letter or number
beyond postal comprehension
They comprehend so little
The proof of me undelivered
Something I expected you to know
a detail of my life unexplained
in this separated time zoned existance
Launched Par Avion and lost in orbit

So if you've not yet heard from me
the words lie there
dead lettered, still alive and hopeful
Someone's bound to see the rise and fall
of breath, beating through an envelope
Pick it up, finger it for a pulse
call an ambulance
Sirens may scream down your block
lights flashing, doors thrown open
to deliver me, not dead

Just lacking a return address