Shadow Writer

I wrote him a love letter once, in my best catholic school cursive, on unlined oatmeal vellum. I kept my sentences perfectly parallel, dotted my i’s with hearts and finished my y’s with curliques. I sprinkled the margin with x’s and o’s, sprayed it with a mist of Chloe’, and sealed it with a glossy pink kiss. I put it in the mail and waited.

I am still waiting.

We write, and we gift our words to each other like they are the most valuable of things. But we deceive ourselves. Because in the end, even sweetly scented, words are not enough.