Unsent Letter #4

A Prose Poem by Anon ymous

Dear ,

I think about carefully writing letters then leaving them in random places:

Dear Subway Passenger,
Dear Passer-By,

Let me tell you about my lover.
She’s beautiful in that way sadness has of rounding out edges.
She likes to go barefoot; better to feel the earth tremble, she says.
She worries about the sun when it rains,
Likes to sit in her grandmother’s chair; best seat in the house when it thunders.
She believes in long good-byes and wide-open spaces. Last thing she told me was how words
seem to come alive when written by hand.

Love,

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