Dear,
I seem to spend my life missing you
Continents separate our hearts
Fickle honey words get us stuck-
Bridge the distance in our thoughts.
Each pen stroke writhed in love,
Punctuate the misery of our leagues apart.
We ache terribly for the verses we write,
Sheathed in metaphor that forever blights.
Darling, doomed to our dolorous doldrums-
Crafting love to span black hole cosmos,
Each missive mired in miasma abstractions.
Know this and only this;
Stoically we pen our perseverance.
Sent off into the whirlpool world,
Sheer chance allows your reception-
Safeguard me so (this precious verse),
For each beat of the heart pulsates within.
Slaves to the distance of our souls,
Faith remains in the hands that now hold-
We exist in the words we mold.
Yours,
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