i remember her letter.
handwritten on white
college-ruled
notebook paper torn
from it’s spiral ring
which left
a jagged edge
of hanging chads
along one side.
on many nights i held
her note close
to my chest
and sniffed the faintest
scent of lavender
which infused
each word
when her nimble fingers
gripped the pen.
these days it’s barely legible
from repeated foldings
and unfoldings,
the lines faded
as if my eyes sucked
dry the essence
of her words,
leaving only
a pale shadow behind.
