Immortalizing

I carry too many postage stamps with me—
everywhere I go, I have no regret of it
There could be a chance I stumble upon a post office
and I could write to you every time I do,
even with you right beside me
Intertwined in ink and evergreen’s sacrifice,
words could never dry up in my bleeding heart;
poised and pounding exclusively for you
I would pull out my ribcage and necessary bones
just to makeshift you a mailbox for my prose

Ordinary is an insult to you,
your ether faints angels
Exquisite aura stream,
aural extraordinary dream
I would transform mineself into
nothing to fit your something
For I would be nothing anyways,
without your something
And that breathtaking something of yours
makes my suffocating life breathe
I find myself living
in the company of your poetry
and breathing more comfortably
in the cacophony and the cruelty;
existing on pages,
just you and me.