Poem for No One

Poems are like letters never sent.
Is the point just to tell the little worlds inside us the secret of ourselves?
"I feel this way, " I say to 'this way'.
"Good," 'this way' says, "Thank you for figuring it out."

I am now satisfied.
I shrug.
"Hum... 'this way', huh? Okay."
And I keep on going.