Love letter # 74
If you are sending me signals, I sure as hell can’t read them. For such erotic illiteracy I can only offer feeble explanation. I have blundered badly before – misread invitations – so much so that I have been frozen. The subtleties are now entirely lost on me.
My basic operating assumption these days is that no woman would ever want me. Indeed, I feel I am invisible to them. So in case you are wondering why I have not responded to you, here is your reason. Plain old fear.
Truth be told, I have wanted to hold you, I have wanted to kiss your wonderful lips. The last time we met I had to sit on my hands, tell my heart to stop jumping. When you smiled at me, when you stood barely inches away, I was shaking; uncertain, caught like a breath in the throat. My asphyxiated desire tore at me, yearning like a diver for sweet air.
Yet even beauty will fall from burnt fingers.
If I have made you feel unwanted – erase that thought. I dream of you with giddy hunger. My body cries your name. You have set my blood on fire.
So tell me, is this another friendship fatally compromised, another wrong end of the stick? Will you greet these words with silent scorn? Will I never know?
Please say no.