I could write you day after day,
week after week,
month after month,
but nothing compares to the scent
of your skin when I am holding you
in my arms,
and a tiny envelope with words written
in my handwriting,
addressed to your house,
with your name scrolled on the top,
will never be enough for me,
because that is only a smile from your lips,
that touches your eyes,
and though I may send these letters to
you for that sole purpose,
I still do not get to see it happen,
and you are still not wrapped up in my arms.