The door to my room doesn't actually shut.
Fate or flaw? I don't know.
But when I'm lying awake at night I can look out at the slit between the door and the wall and see light streaming in from the window across the hall. And I can strain to look for a hint of shadow, a moving figure. I can imagine you vaulting in through the window and pushing open the door, coming into my room and planting a light kiss on my forehead, guiding the hair back from my face and hugging me till morning.
love letter collection
12:48 AM EST
Saturday, February 18, 2012