A Mailbox Melody

Again he ruffled my feathers.

Knowing well he will only pluck them out.

I tugged my finger as I carefully watched it descend down the spine of the dotted fold in my spiral notepad,

detaching the paper from the trimmed lines,

as it slid a baritone break..

The melody my ink sang as it dripped off my pen

and onto the lines forming a dedication of yet again, invaluable words to him,

that erode my confidence.

The ink had a strong scent, like wet paint.

Blowing soft wind with my lips over the written cursive “I love you” so it wouldn’t smear

before folding it in halves.

Gliding my tongue along the minty sticky strip,

sealing the letter with a kiss.

I addressed the envelope to myself.