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I want to write about you,
and only you,
for the rest of my life.

I suppose after maybe
a couple of hundred pages and
a few hundred thousand words
that would have to be
either validated and fulfilled
or annulled and apologized for,

but a poet,
in the thick of a dire moment
will ultimately run home
to her words, knowing how
to consign her soul to history
and make stabs at immortality
and pluck that which perishes
from the clutches of
time’s shifting dunes
and render it
almost God-like.

Now that I’ve written it down
I can again rest easy,
knowing I’ve left a record
that I have felt this way and
no matter what happens afterward
I can hold on to the evidence
that it was real, this real.

This is how much I love you,
but I love you way more than that.
Enough to promise all my words,
enough to scrawl my signature
in ink on the penciled
blank check of the future,
enough to risk having to
contradict myself, enough
to take on the responsibility
of having to prove myself.

Look at these words.
They are all of me,
but I am bigger than them.

And I offer them to you.

“I Got Your Letter Today” by photographer Yvonne U.E.