the agony of pleasure : wasting words on lower cases and capitals

mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix

When summer ends, do not be sad. I will be leaving in thirty days, but I promise I will write. I will write to you, the metal tip of my pen betraying the depth of my emotions as it carves into pastel colored paper. I will replay the words in my head, mentally hitting backspace until each sentence deserves to be immortalized with ink. I will write to you the words I cannot say to your face.  Envelopes will be stuffed with kisses and love and a soft prayer for you to be safe. Such lofty wishes; would the fragile paper hold? It doesn’t matter, for I will write to you.

When summer ends, our long distance love begins again.