Love letter # 54

In the end, I just learned not to think about you. As long as your name never rang in my head I could float around just fine. For a while it was almost okay. But we both know the bells never stop. And sometimes … we are the rain – destined to fall. I know you won’t have changed your mind but I thought I’d just let you know. Just in case.

Love letter # 29

My empire? It was a mere exhalation. A sound I made sometimes. It added up to not much. When you kicked down the walls of my castle you let me loose. I became a child again, naked without masks, running without chains. I felt like the air. And you were flying with me, beautiful one … How ‘bout that.

Love letter # 65

It’s those hips – that’s why I’m in a swoon. The long line of that graceful neck, those opalescent eyes, that husky laugh … the way you lean forward. Yes, I am looking down your top. Isn’t that what you want?

Some fevers you just want to sweat out – some you just want to sweat. You know which one I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you don’t.

You could always lean forward a little further. We could always kiss. I think I would like the taste of that. Wouldn’t you?

This ain’t rocket science – it’s gravity … and I for one am falling.

 

Love letter # 70

I chose the fire. Now look. Burnt.

Does it really matter how I got here? I’m here now – wishing maybe I wasn’t – knowing I should be. Yet even though it was my ultimatum, the nights are still empty and I long for them to be filled with something akin to your nearness. The handbook says I shouldn’t but I would still kneel for the approximation of your kiss.

Now that I am here in the dirt, what matter the heights I fell from? Explanation is a palliative; and a poor one at that. I might spend all night dreaming of you but in the morning you will still be gone; and there will be a space beside me, a gap in everything that you once filled with your light.

I chose this cold. Now look. Shivering.

There is nothing we do that does not cost us something. The price we paid for love was the end of love – and the price I am paying for this conclusion I have so wisely engineered is that love has yet to reach its end.

Time, I am assured, will take some of these things away. Until then … well, I think we both know. I may be strong enough to accept this outcome but not so tough that I would not wish it otherwise.

I chose this knife. Now look. Cut.

Love letter # 145

Only when I gave in to you was I was liberated. Only when I let you in was I warm inside. Only as my heart was breaking was I truly mended.

You have brought the stars to light – and you are the colour of spring. I knew nothing of the sea until I drowned in you – and all the old maps were out of date. You re-drew the world. It’s a much better place now – and I am glad to be in it with you.

Love letter # 67

When you stood next to me last night, I caught fire. The scent of your skin enfolded me. The sound of your out breath was a soft little shove, like a fingertip tracing my jawline. Something in the pool of your gaze unzipped me. And that beat before you left … that moment held. In such wonderful silences everything is known. But now I want to know more.