Faded stamps
make nests inside
envelopes that carry
the throat of
swollen notes.

Yesterdays run down
like honey against the edge
of your mailbox, I've sent the
years that never left you.

When did you move towards
the echo of reoccurring reflection
to remind yourself to breath again.
I thought it was strange too,
for the first time.

The moment has come for me to go...
but don't leave, I'll be right back.