At a mailbox sat an empty envelope without your name on it.
Just my address and stamps and empty air between folded pieces of paper.
You don't need a long letter to tell me how you feel.
We already know.
You don't have to write down your name.
You don't need to.
For you are the only person to seal these envelopes with a kiss.
And every time I get these envelopes, I put my lips to where I thought yours had touched, and then open them and feel what they had to say.