Love letter # 41
Now that I am in your light, now that I have tasted you, I breathe in the age old epiphany of skin. All this talk, all these symbols – they are meagre compared to the soft crush of surrender.
My bottled urgency has gone to water. The sting has been excised. It took the merest touch. I was a kingdom waiting to fall for you. And you were my beautiful ruin.
Ambition, achievement – victory, treasure – even wisdom itself … empty clamour. I would rather kiss your splendid eyelids.
They say that every king is humbled before the queen of love. Thank God for that. Our worthless empires will never match up to this.