Upon Finding A Very Old, Unanswered Email

did i let you down?
i am so sorry that i did.
my face turns red
remembering.
you emailed me in
perfect faith
of my internet identity:
all encompassing understanding
that would definitely not
preclude you.
though i open myself
to public speculation,
opinion, gossip, expectation,
i forget again and again
the enormity of people.
the vastness of our needs,
the skein of face
over a hundred blue veins,
the hand on stomach,
aches in anxiety-
the hand over chest,
constricts in loneliness-
the foot in front of foot,
as if we could walk forever.
i am not sure of the realness
of your face
the way movement changes 
the surface, 
exactly like water.
i am not sure of the sound
of your voice
the way i imagine it
surely wrong.
i just know that you are here
wherever this is,
and your words were written
months ago,
and you probably think
i am an asshole.
did i let you down?
i am so sorry that i did.