Love letter # 3709
Not so long ago, we were fantastic. You dazzled me, I dazzled you. Then, somewhere along the line, wonder became humdrum.
My erstwhile charms are now painful to you. The mystery I once possessed has been replaced by hairs in the basin. And your tipsy laugh makes me cringe. We are an old couple now, lingering in domestic discontent. How easy to make for the exit.
But stop. What is this?
Why is that when I think of you with love I still feel it like gravity, right here in my abdomen, a gorgeous, strong thread attaching me to you? A cynic might say, oh that’s just habit, and they might be right – but I don’t care. Am I not addicted to you for good reason? Are you not the taste I desire?
Perhaps we are foolish to compare ourselves to the unreal lovers in songs, to perfect movie couples. Are we so greedy as to always want only the beginning of things? What of this rich and complex middle – is it not fertile like a forest floor – the good with not so good – beauty through damp imperfection?
We could grow up anytime we wanted. We could stop being petty right now. We only have to say so. This is not a prison. Look! Doors aplenty. Walk in? Walk out?
I have no final position on what love is – you could blow any theory out of the water anyway – but I do know that we have a choice here. You, me, we? What’s it to be?
You should know by this what I would prefer.