wonderstruck

thatkindofwoman:

I could write to you if you like.
Little love notes would greet you at every turn.
Paper worn down soft like summer skin.
I could profess the feelings verbally,
or in my hitched handwriting.

I could leave a hundred notes secreted away in your room.
Hidden in your socks. The collar of your shirt.
The way you shake out the paper makes my breath hitch.
Rolled, folded, tucked, flattened. Paper.

Different pens, different inks. I would write what I felt.
Smudges, stains. My lipstick, that night I wore it. 
Hotel stationary. Bank notes. Receipts. 
Postcards. Valentines. Heated breath on glass.
The scent of me, or my perfume.

On your skin, as you sit still.
Even the way I reach out and touch.
I write my words to you with my caress.

Letters. Lines. Correspondence.

My heart to you in pieces, on each missive.