you don't know this but i send you love letters every day:
in the dandelion puffs floating through the afternoon air, a secret wish attached to each brown seed.
with each brush stroke through my inky hair, taming the strands after their fiery dance with the dryer to look polished and smooth.
at the turn of each doorknob, a quick inhaled breath to hold back disappointment when i know you're not on the other side.
on the road, my bike tires hum with velocity-- calling out a gearsong, hoping you'll recognize its pattern and meet up after the next hill.
against flannel sheets at 3 am, my cheek brushes against cold pillow and i sigh with solitude and sleep.
between the tap of each keyboard character, my forefingers still remember tracing the moles on your back.
before i almost surrender to the silence of lacking emotions and feelings for anyone else, i mouth the words "i love you" silently, wondering if the tiniest motion of my lips will decorate the evening air, tiptoe in shadow to your end of the city, and come to rest upon your forehead-- so slightly you think perhaps a breeze snuck through your windowpanes.
love,
a.
i'll try to kiss you if you let me
this can't be the end
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