June two-seven, two-oh-one-seven

To soldier, 

Today is the first day I haven't seen you in two years

You have traded our hallway-hand-holding

For barracks-and-gun-toting. 

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. 

Love,

Civilian.