as i stare at correspondences past
i wish i had an envelope and an address
and that i could press my chest to the paper
so you could see the etching of my heart
its quaking, shivering, tautness
yearning for release to a yard
with a fence that we build together
too free to do the things that i will
for i will take an extra sip of coffee
too late in the day
if instead i don't have you
see you, show you, do the loving verbs
that i carry in my chest
and cannot get into the correspondence
without a sketch
to show you that when my heart looks in the mirror
it sees you
Roman Ryan 