write me the letter
with the stars ordered
into the list of how
you could be in my arms
if only your timing was
right and mine was a
little more lithe.
write me the letter
with the capital letters
lessened to show the movement
across the white page lined
in your blue and auburn and
porcelain skin as you remind
yourself that you have carried
that broken heart too far
to let go of it now.
write me the letter
and tear yourself away from
your commitment like a ship
on the rocks of intervention
and don’t let yourself
forget every second you sat
and thought under the willow
next to the house that your parents
sold when you were five.
write me the letter
and forget every excuse
you tell yourself so that each
person and moment and second
and destination and choice
and notion and crush and love
and comfort and promise and
reach inside your mind is
the same even though
you know that there
are some substitutions
that will never justify
exactly why it is
us you think of
in the night.