The One With Stevie Wanderlust.

Dear Lover,

I have a second name.
An alter-ego of sorts.
That reminds me to be adventurous.
And silly.
And lovesick.

This alter-ego signs up for weeklong backpacking trips.
So that I can stand in the valleys.
Hold my mistakes up.
And sound my barbaric yawp over the treetops of the world.

She tap dances on kitchen floors, her arms moving like a gypsy.
So that I can let loose.
Refill on joy.
And make these sides split.

She imagines you up around every corner.
So that I can sit here.
At this desk.
Writing love letters in messy cursive.

Love,
Me.