I want to write them all out again,
Those letters that could only be read, but not held.
Those letters that could only be seen on a bright screen.
But this time, I would write them all by hand,
On faded pieces of papers; all words, every whispers,
And enclose them on envelopes, sealing it with hopes
That you would read them all again, even though it will never end.
For until my hand can write, to give you handwritten letters, I hope it’s alright.