Letter to a Lover

Dear you,

My thoughts are in

No particular order.



No, really.


Our modest demeanor

Is not to be

Pinned to a guise

Or conservation act.

Shining eyes

Of candor

Remain delightfully intact.

As we call the shots of love

The way we see them.

Throwing needless tangles


For the thespian rats.

While we press on.

I'm nearing the end

Of my ink fountain.

So I'll ask you,

Upon reception

Of my little letter mountain

To send me your blackest tears

In a humble bottle

So I can write you back

The tiny words

That leave us floored.

Simply put,

We're beautiful.

Beautifully put,

We're simple.

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