post. apocalypse.

i have read...
and immediately responded
to your letter.
call.
and.
response.
...and eeked out with passion
...in furtive splotches of clumsy ink.
black.
the thought carried
for so long, my heart
craters a constant
hole.
it aches.
it haunts.
a footfall,
remarkably like yours.

and after tears and tears and years and tears.
[i've cried so long, even tragedies seem quaint]
i fumbled the word out
on the page.
the word.
made flesh.
the flesh.
made alive between us.
[and neither
of us,
were ever the same.]

so. after
crying. and sitting
in silence.
like a catatonic wretch.
i let the words come.
come.
flood forth,
and they came.

and finally after days of carrying the tiny missile.
i rent asunder the lines
that connect
the far-flung
ties
that still bind.
even now.

and stitched together.
like suturing
a binding, piercing
my heart.
my hands.
my all.
for you.

check the box.
the mailman cometh.