Whoever you are,
you need to suffocate me with words,
with language.
Every little note you leave needs to trap me.
Each letter needs to pin me down
and sprinkle me with droplets of you.

Write me stories and poems and sonnets.
I want your words to love me and kiss me and hold me.
I want you to inspire me in the absence of coffee aromas and pretty scenery’s.

Write to me about the little things.
Tell me how the floorboards feel in the dark
and what mornings are like away from home.
Tell me about the draft in your room,
and how cigarette smoke feels whilst dancing past your lips.

Write about me,
about my freckles,
about my peachy skin,
about my auburn hair,
about my skinny bones.

Record the time for me.
Write about the seconds of each minute,
how that hour in the waiting room was.
What do you do in each cycle of the sun?

Whoever you are,
write to me.