his love is poetry,

his words like a melody.

we jumbled each letter,

into an alphabet soup.

i never needed harmony,

never needed melody.

we had everything we ever needed.

but we didn’t know,

how to put it into writing.

the letters danced across the page,

always moving, but never together,

twirling towards something beautiful.

the orchestra thrived without the chorus,

no distractions, just pure music,

an invisible string tied between us.

the words he spoke,

beautiful clear blue water,

barely piercing the surface.

your letters dive deep,

upside down and backwards,

pirates navigating a stormy sea.

and maybe your letters drowned in the sea between us,

but his never made it off the page.

and someday i’ll open an envelope,

and see the scattered letters.

the ones that make sense to only me and you,

twenty-one beautiful letters.

a secret code they tried to solve,

but there was no trick.

no clues hidden in between the lines,

because on paper we don’t make sense.

on paper our words don’t rhyme,

but in the sea, we float side by side.