untying, unrolling the paper,
words, spaces, punctuation,
behind all of it was an empty paper,
his fingers caressing at every direction
with a touch, familiar and remembered,
he recognizes, the font, handwritten,
he could feel the touch of the fingers,
invisible, secretly embedded with words,
feeling the ink, every line he read,
but felt as if whispered by her into his ears,
not even for the walls to hear
and for moment, she was there,
talking with him
before vanishing into thin air,
curling the paper back into
the opened envelope which
from now on will remain open and read,
not that it matters just once or more,
he looked at his phone,
flowing with texts and calls,
smiled at the sealed envelope in his hands
as no text box could compare
the actual words, ink and emotions
threaded in a blank piece of paper
- a letter
© Pragati Jain