A letter ink-white stained, arrives at her door again.
A lonely line that says "I miss you."
Of letters coalesced in the pile by her chest,
Atop the hill one proclaims "I love you".

This paper hill's last breath on the bed which they rest
Will burn as if they exist together.
In the ash that covered sheets- what flames could not reach,
The letters sing alone "Forever."

Her arm rests on the floor, her heart beats a sigh till four.
The dust in her lungs is swarming.
The mailbox rings a tone, another letter has found home.
In due time, its message claims "I'm coming."

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