Do you think of me often, or ever remember that night? I wondered if you miss me as much as I do you. And if you knew how much I wanted to tell you this. Or did you know that in spite of what people call my craft and skill, I will never say it quite right, though I’ll grow and cut back and probably grow again through the trying, I will fail. Comforted by the fact that my hungry words, inadequate as they are, will be enough.
Letters Never Sent

Oh my God, beautiful amazing alto, I know that feeling so well it hurts to read your gorgeous words.