I dreamt about you last night, it was the only dream I've had in weeks where I didn't wake up in terror.
Coincidence? I think not, but you'll never know.
Everything I've ever wanted to tell you lingers in the cracks and crevices of my mouth.
I'm trying to be suitable, so that when you get back you'll want to do marvelous things together.
I was going to tell you about how New York has been, but I'd rather read.
