Letter from an Unknown Woman

I read your love poems today,
every one of them, more than once,
and pretended you wrote them  to me.
We have never met but I feel  
as if I know you, your heart,
the essence of who you are.
 
I saw you once at a poetry reading,
you looked nervous, but you read  
with a strong, clear voice that convinced
me you were sincere and that every word
arose from the difficult but beautiful life
you led.
 
I can never know why you did it,
why you could not just be,
why you could not live the passion
in your poems.  
 
Perhaps you could not live without the love
evoked on every page, in every verse,
that to imagine such a love and not have it
was too much to bear.
 
If only we had met, I would have given you
everything you desired, because you
have already given me everything
you had.