June two-seven, two-oh-one-seven
Today is the first day I haven't seen you in two years
You have traded our hallway-hand-holding
Do you remember what it was like to feel something
Other than fear?
I assure you that I most certainly don't.
Snow-day-movie-marathons have given way
To the crestfallen clockwork named depression.
My happiness is dependent on the Postal Service Worker because
When I see that comic-like truck, my heart races and races
Pounding on my chest like a furious war drum.
My only glimpse of what happiness was.
My vans suddenly blessed by Hermes as the fly across pavement.
I hold the envelope close to my chest.
Our love cannot be severed by distance because
We will never admit defeat.
I look forward to your next letter.