An Email

An Email

I write you an email,

bearing bare my murky emotions.

I can feel the muscles of my cheeks tensing,

my lips slowly becoming dry,

my hands turning to electric wires,

as I type.

I write to you

about how your skin makes the snow blush,

about how your lips are like ripe peaches,
about how the blue of your eyes makes the ocean ashamed.

I go on

verse by verse,

word by word,

letter by letter,

convincing you of how infinitely beautiful you are,

as if you weren’t aware of this already.

I wait patiently for a response,

but I never get one.

Promises;

they break before they make.