Love letter # 555

Would it be wrong of me to say that I miss you; even though it was me who pulled the trigger?

I’m not about to say can we please start again; we both know that would be pointless. But even if it is better this way, it still hurts. There is no victory here, no triumphal consolation, simply the vague hope that I got it right.

Have you ever noticed how the right thing is so often so awful?

Until my heart is full again the nights will be empty. The mornings quiet. The unused section of the bed – cold. Sand on the hearth; where once the fire burned. And the things you left behind, little trinkets of you, gathering dust, turning into memory.

Is it not true that the good walks out the door with the bad?

Perhaps we are the wiser for this – time alone will show us that – but the one thing I do know is that I would be a fool to forget what it was to love you and to see that beautiful light in your eyes.

I think of that, my angel – and I am all at sea. Melted. And I could almost pick up the phone.

Love letter # 40

It is strange to wake up without hope. Liberating. Now at last I am free to love you as I may. No waiting by the phone. No hanging on Facebook. Just love – and moving through the day. Not weary. Not fretful. Unshackled.

So this is your final gift to me; I realise it now. Yesterday my longing was choked with ash, today my love breathes freely. Tomorrow I will light a candle for you and it will burn forever.

You are the guiding star, my beautiful. I am but a traveller making his way. And even without you – still I am not lost.

The cynics, the cruel talk, the friends who say told you so – they won’t even put a scratch on you. I know what’s true. I was there. That’s why I’m able to thank you for everything. You made a difference – and I will never be the same.

Love letter # 31

When I was king of the world and you were queen of the universe it was incredible. Okay, so it only lasted six weeks but it changed me forever. Once you know what it’s like to fly it’s hard to keep your feet on the ground.

Thank you for astounding me out of my slumber. Your crazy beauty made the world brand new. Your mouth was another language. I was running on half power until you laid your hand on me. Then I was electric.

The things I thought I knew – you threw them out. And the things I wasn’t even aware of – you made them bleed. Most of all though, you showed me my heart. Now it beats in me like never before. Now I know what it means to live.

Love letter # 27

Whatever happens, some things will always be crystal. The ordinary grind of days will not dull them; they are safe in my fondness.

Like the way we kissed in public – like air violin in your apartment – like when you first invited me to your room.

No matter that the romance has cooled, that habit has supplanted impromptu joy – at least we once had angels for friends.

When even the music has stopped, or become wallpaper, it is the memory of dancing that yanks me to my feet.

Please forgive me if I seem to look through you sometimes; it is the wondrous creature still brilliant inside you that I am seeing.

Sure, the past is gone and our youth worn to spidery lines; but we always have the echo of splendour – it’s right here in our hearts – beautiful still. Like you.

Love letter # 100

How do you cram into mere words the things that are oceans inside you?

Will this letter sound mad? Unreasonable? Will you think I’ve lost it? Probably – but there is always a reason for these things; they never come out of the blue. We all live in a world that is both real and imagined; and although I do not pretend to know precisely where the line between them is drawn I do know how I feel – and what I must now do.

Until recently the fear of seeming overly emotional – of scaring you off – has kept the lid on. That and the ridiculous hope …

But you said something the other day … and I knew for sure. In a way, it was almost a relief. After nearly three years of being patient, of being optimistic, it came down to something sharp and undeniable – and no amount of wishing it otherwise would make it go away. The world I have imagined since we first danced together in 2008 has yielded to the real.

I know that I could let this pass and things would just roll on between us; you keeping me at arm’s length, me putting up it – but  it would be a lie.

You will say: why can’t we just be friends? But what is a friend? Is a friend someone who sits on his hands, who chokes down his feelings, who looks the other way? Maybe – but I am not that kind of friend. Not anymore.

You will say: why can’t you just get over it? Well, here is your wish coming true. This is me having the guts to get over it. I know that you cannot – will not – give me what I want; but so too I cannot – will not – live on what you give. Yes, it would be a whole lot better if I didn’t love you (obviously) … but look at me.

And you – what use have you for a man who is not man enough to do what he knows is right?

It’s not that I’ve stopped wanting you. My love for you fills up every corner of my being. I think you are wonderful. But I know you do not feel the same; and you never will – and hanging in your shadow with baleful eyes certainly won’t change that. No one ever loved a beggar.

Of course it is my ardent wish that today was not today – that tonight we could dance like we used to. But like the song says: wishing never helps, wishing never changed a thing.

I get that you have reasons for your choices, that you must do what is best for you, that you can only love who you love – or not, as the case maybe. I have no quarrel with that.

But what kind of fool would I be to keep hanging on? Surely there is a point at which optimism becomes delusion? And if I’m brutally honest – and I add up all the positive signs … honey, they amount to nothing.

Yet there is no acrimony in this. Sadness? Yes, of course (I will not pretend) – but bitterness? – not a jot. I honour the beauty you have brought into my life. I thank you for the lessons you have accidently taught me, for the things you have inspired me to write. I am much the better man for knowing you.

So why am I doing this? Why can’t I just accept things the way they are? Well, that’s just it, I do accept things – it‘s just that I absolutely hate them. It has become intolerable for me to sit at your side and pretend that we are ‘just friends’. We are anything but ‘just’ – it’s always been deeper than that.

You will probably think I have overstated things, that I’m being too dramatic. You might even think that I’m drunk. Nonetheless, I would rather put up with the hurtful hearsay that will doubtless come back to me through the grapevine than spend another night locked in distant orbit around a beautiful star that will never shine for me.

I am prepared to accept your scorn and/or complete silence for having sent you this letter. Think me stupid, selfish, immature, needy, irrational, whatever – for even if all this be true, tis nought compared to not being with you.

Each of us wants something in life (even if some people pretend not to) and I want you … No, I want us.

But no matter how much I want it, it will not be – and so, in order that I might live on more than crumbs, I must have the courage to move on. I must also be honest with you. I cannot keep this fire hidden. I would rather it went out. For even the darkest night must kneel before the dawn.

If you are still reading this, please forgive me. My love is eternal, my pain threshold is not. I have tried but at long last I have failed. If the sound of your voice didn’t melt me completely, if the promise of seeing you didn’t keep me awake at night, if I could somehow not love you; maybe I wouldn’t be writing this.

But here I am typing, crying, trembling. Need I say more?

The door is always open for you but you must walk through it, not simply knock and run away. I cannot answer the bell to emptiness anymore.

Perhaps more than anything I want this letter to flick some deep switch in you, to be the thing that finally makes you realise – but even I’m not that stupid. I have prayed too often for miracles to have any faith left.

At the end of the day I have all this love and it wants to be given – but ultimately it is yours to accept, not mine to force.

And so, in its place … absence – getting over it. Just as you would have wished.

Love letter # 16

If the world is a jarring crash – you are the silence. If my heart is a clamouring fool – you are the graceful stillness. If the night is a fearsome dark – you are the light that shines.

When all the little details blur, when words devolve to sound, when breath is what is left – it is you, my love. Always you.

You are why I’m here. You are the reason for singing.

I am but a dancer – you are the song.

No matter what.

No matter what.

Love letter # 273

Exactly when I cannot say – but I am absolutely certain that somewhere along the line I was forced to abandon the illusion of control. There is, after all, something greater than me.

Don’t ask me to explain it but something about the way I loved you changed the world … from the inside. One day, I simply I woke up starving. Unhinged by hunger, I tried all the usual remedies; distraction, denial, pseudo-spiritual band aids – but I still wanted you. Some days, I almost forget you – but you were never further than a soft evening away. It was as if you had become everything beautiful; and I could feel you on my skin like warm air. You were the crisp mornings. You were the sweet smelling rain.

I was the blade of grass, covered in your dew.

The common wisdom has it that desire is the source of unhappiness but really it is the door to humility. I wanted you, you said no, and I learnt to give thanks for your beauty alone.

Desire reminds us who we are. Desire is the eclipse of conceit. By loving you the way I do – so constantly, so without bounds – I am humble, I am alive.

But these are just words – they are nothing compared to my love for you.