Dear the undisclosed.
However disclosed to my heart.
Disclosed to my writing.
Disclosed to also my ears
of which are brought to life,
whenever you whisper what
I cannot disclose, to them.
Writing this not for you but
thy heart.
You?
Not my cup of tea of course
but my type of liquor.
Not to get me drunk but tipsy,
as the provisons of your heart
already compensate for that.
I hope this finds your heart smiling.
As on my side I'm already dialing
heaven's craftsman, in appreciation
of his workmanship.
Hoping you'd also pick up
that I'm dying to hear from you.
