I’ve saved our letters,
They’re in a box in my closet.
Nothing screams pain more than old words.
Words that meant the world in that moment,
But over time,
Entered into a downward spiral.
I loved how you curled your Y’s,
And oh-so confidently striked through your A’s.
That .38 pen fit you too well.
The floral stamps reminded me of a crowded garden,
One filled with bees, butterflies, and even grasshoppers.
You got those at the Art Museum, I just know it.
An asymmetrical heart sealed the letter,
Instantly ripped in half by my eagerness to read your words.
Did you kiss the heart where the envelope seals, just like I do?
Before flooding myself with your paragraphs,
I delicately brought the parchment to my nose.
Ambrosial, particles of your aroma trapped into the air of the envelope, spread on the parchment.
I am grateful for our endearments that are captured on paper.
No time for reliving, only reminicinsing.
Thank you. So so much.
You will never know how important it was to me.
snail mail is my favorite
