Dear  redacted ,

I hope this letter finds you
well in whatever form
it ultimately takes.
There are so many ways
to be unable to say
what is absolutely necessary.
‍
I’ve been thinking about you
a lot lately. Things
have been especially ----------. 

I saw a photograph that reminded me
of you the other day. There was a fish,

but the                had gotten caught
by a                      covered in thorns.
It was really endearing and I smiled
because how could I not?

I often imagine that you’re thinking
of me and know what I’m doing
at that moment, but I figure
you probably don’t think of me much.
                her again,              ,

and all they could talk about
were the stars. They’re only
ever too bright or completely
invisible because of the city.

What are they like when you look at them?
I                them around here, but who
knows if that will be a thing much longer.

Ever since --------- I haven’t slept
well. ----- is looking at me
whenever I close my eyes.

You know how ---------- can be.
So present
that it defies definition. 

The best I can do is trace
its corona in the moments
when I’m able to black it out,
my thumb stuck up like an eclipse
blotting out the sun. I had a dream

about ---------  . Even there
----------- is so -------------
‍------- -   ------------  -- --              .

I wanted that for you.
You shone with it, always
dragging it behind you.

-----------     ----------- --- ---------------------
------------------ ----------- -------------
    
It’s funny, ---------    and -----   
because you can’t substitute
something so definite
with something vague, 
approximate. ------------------
         -----------    . I’m sorry.