Untitled (Letters)

He sends me love letters he whispers to the edge of the balcony
Late at night when the clouds swallow the stars and the mist of rain paints his skin
With the drops of light denied to the black holes facing up
The drops of light he cannot see which make him sparkle like frost in winter
He dreams in winter where everything is white and blank and cold
A cold to quench the unknown thing that sets his insides burning
To halt the machinery behind his eyes until everything is perfect still
In my memories of snow there is only us and a world like a bubble
And everything was alive like dancing and rain and my breath rising into light
And while I ache with the knowing and as he aches for the unknowing
I still can content myself that at the very least
We're both
In our own way
Dreaming of the same thing