Karissa Satchwell

love letters

restraint is not a romantic word to me. did you know that the alphabet
is just letters forming fragments that are never as accurate as our
actual thoughts? they attempt to twist themselves into entire words
while sitting on pages like young children sitting on their hands
trying not to grasp at all the things they cannot touch. that is my
only lesson. i do not sit on my hands much anymore when people are
around. i slap the metaphorical stove, get burned, do not learn.
tonight my hands typed smoked quivered. i get lectured while they
clamp up against my will. i wanted to tell you i am only in my tiny
altered world to relax with order and sense for a brief vacation from
the reality that is chaos and question. i wanted my lips to make
shapes and signals telling you that you should join me. float here a
little while with me and darling i will not neglect you. i fear sleep
because dreams are too lonely. i write love letters on a mental
typewriter. the ink will fade in the morning. they are never sent,
instead they sleep in my eye sockets stinging only when i let them.
mistakes don't taste well with coffee or with mail. we feel nothing we
don't want to.


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