I seal my envelopes with

Saliva.

How bout’ you?

Sometimes, I get carried away and pretend you’re the letter.

It’s your fault, really.

You’ve injected your words into my jugular,

So pumping blood is hard.

Seriously. That’s why I’m shaky when you

            (TOUCH ME, OH MY GOD)

Let’s chalk it up to hormones.

Let’s tango around the truth.

Social restrictions, personal barriers

Preservation of innocence.

It’s all part of the process,

And you’re the destination.

            (Did I just say that? I was trying to be subtle.)

Reality is overrated

And slightly impossible.

Did you know that?

I want you to 

            (FOLD ME, lick my stamp)

Know that.

He said, she said, You said, I’ll say

I AM A REINCARNATION

Of a protesting fool

On a streetcorner.

            (Do envelopes have streetcorners?!)

You electrify me.

Unquenchable fantasies dance tantalizingly

In shiny neon shoes

On your mouth.

I mean address.

Wait.

What do I mean?

What do you mean?

What does this mean?