It’s sad to be a lover today.
Our letters are mails,
Our calls, texts.
I wish I loved you back when
letters were the real deal.
I’d keep all of them safe, and
wouldn’t fear them getting ‘deleted’.
I would’ve smelt them,
for your beautiful hands would’ve touched them.
I would’ve traced each word with my fingers,
for your heart must have whispered each phrase.
I would’ve kissed them, thinking I’ve kissed you,
for you must have spoken the words out loud.
And I would’ve held them close,
thinking I’ve embraced a part of you.
It’s sad to be a lover today.