Lost Love
Once, I found a piece of paper
in a parking lot
in the snow,
bright white,
fresh,
as if just dropped there
by accident.
It was a note
addressed, “My love,”
and nothing more.
Either it was
the shortest love letter
ever penned
or
the author could only
transliterate
what they felt.
I understand that
sometimes,
love is not about
words,
but more about
action,
like impassioned eyes
glancing across a room
at the object of their affection
or, a touch so tender
that it electrifies all of your senses,
becoming a part of you,
melting into your soul.
I only hoped that
whoever wrote it
would be able to experience
what I knew to be-
beyond words.
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