on living half a world away

I offer

my love in

blue ballpoint pen on

half sheets of white paper with

words that speak but

don't show,

emotions that say but

don't sit with.

I fold these

bits of paper unsatisfactorily into

bland envelopes and,

for three dollars-sixty I exchange coins for

stickers that will carry

myself to those of

a previous life in hopes

that it will be

enough.