My love letter to you is an empty envelope

The only whispered breath between creases the smudged ink of your address

It's the split second after the trigger clicks

A precarious void full of my silence

The phantom of my hand shoots between your ribs when you open it, fingertips sliding into the grooves of your arteries like you were born with my forearm sticking out of your chest

Across a thousand lives, serenity uses the wood of our fireplace to build a bridge

We sink down through the planes of being, immigrating from the landlocked state of time

The knowledge of the universe is how your lips move and breathe across my own

Fate hums a tune, braiding our hair under the light of the stars

The watery glow paints your gaze a clear midmorning

What I see in your eyes is mine, though I can never find my reflection against the glint of your iris

I cannot find my throat, either, my esophagus liquified amongst the inky darkness

My mouth is intact for performance- I masquerade vocality, giving a dozen soliloquies to the constellations

The only sound that reaches your ears is the slight murmur of your vanquished past and the echo of our boundless future

The crackle of perceived quiet envelops the nebula of us, our essence twisted and twirled in a billowing cloud of purple

We bloom endlessly, photosynthesizing off starlight and the beam of your smile

We will never wilt to be pressed in a book with a cracked spine- we will simply always be

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