Love letter # 266

You are like the siren, I am like the shipwreck.

There are nights when I cannot even look at you – your bare shoulders, your eyes a fire – and I have to walk away. Wait outside. And when I hear you talking, when I hear you breathe that way …

The way you move your body. Your subtle way of dancing. Almost everything about you. It’s like music when you’re in the room – a song that drowns out the rest. Including my sense.

I am like the feather; you are like the air flow. And this is why I’m flying – this is why I’m falling now.

I can see you shining. I can hear you singing. I can nearly feel your touch. And were your lips to whisper, I would end up on your rocks.

Love letter # 195

It doesn’t feel like a lifetime – but it is. One minute we were new – and now … here we are, kind of silent, wondering.

We looked away – surely it was just for a moment – and when we looked back everything had changed. The same – but different – and somehow, time had passed. That almost touchable day that was just yesterday is now years away.

And look … even the angels are getting old.

But we are more than remnants of half remembered splendour – because we are still here. Because I still love you – even if it looks like I don’t – and you must still love me – even though I swear it’s not true.

Is it just that I can’t do without you? Maybe. But there are worse things than that. At least I’m not cold. And I adore your beautiful smile.

Love letter # 34

Before you, I practised guitar. Since you, there have been songs. You are the difference between the passing of the days and the beauty of the season.

I think of you every day – but some days I am awash; the floodplain in flower. Whatever I was before, I am new. Yours is the light that let me see.

I know what the fire is now. I have the ashes to prove it.

They say we pay for glory with blood. Let it be so. I would burn a thousand kingdoms for this. More. Such things are baubles. This is what matters. You being next to me.

I know it’s stupid – but then I am a fool.

Love letter # 200

Better late than never; isn’t that what they say? Maybe – but there’s a part of me that wishes he’d never worked it out, because now I can’t even blame you.

I used to think – and all of our friends agreed – that it was you who put it to the sword. It was you who lied. You who cheated.

But I look at it now – and I know it wasn’t like that. I was the one who wanted to believe; you never said it was anything. For you, it was only ever a bunch of nights. Bottles of wine, songs we both loved, stars we used to stare at. A fling.

I remember you saying, “Whatever you do, don’t love me.”

I remember thinking, “Surely she’ll change.”

I guess you did – and when you did, you made that call. I told you I understood but all the while I prayed, I schemed – damn it, I even begged. And then I lost it … which is how we ended up here. Which is nowhere.

We might still be running wild if I hadn’t tried to tame you. You wanted someone who would let you fly. You trusted me to be that someone. And now I know I wasn’t.

Maybe it’s good that I know this; it just doesn’t feel like it tonight.

You made it clear, I made it muddy – and when I didn’t get what I wanted I behaved appallingly. So now the only thing left for me to say is sorry.

Anything else would be a lie.

Love letter # 117

I had forgotten how beautiful you were. Seeing you again, I remembered – and I was speechless. You said my name but I could not say yours. That would have been dangerous. Then you would have known.

At least this way I can say it without saying it. There is no awkward dry mouth here. There is no not being able to breathe. Here it’s okay.

If only I could write this, even send it – and yet somehow still hide. If only you could know without knowing. But the only way for me to be around you is for you not to notice.

And so, I will not stand out in the crowd. I will not perform tricks to get your attention. Neither will I seem cool or mysterious. You will remember my name and I will nod and smile – and I will try not to let it show in my eyes. And you won’t have to be embarrassed … and neither will I.

It’s easier this way. You are far too beautiful for me and I know in my heart that I don’t have the guns to fight for you. And this way, that very heart won’t need to break.

So yes, I’m scared. Afraid of how easy it would be for me to love you. For if you so much as clicked your fingers … I know where I’d be.

Love letter # 32

Looking at you is blasting a hole in my thoughts. Your movement is so evocative. The unmistakable flicker in your eyes, the curl of your smile, your soft bottom lip … Signs?

Or maybe I’m blind. Perhaps I’m imagining all this. It’s probably nothing to you.

Not for me. I am on fire – just like the guy in the song. Burning up. Practically panting. Now I know what they mean by fever. And this is the hot part. Watching you right now. You walking up to me. Such a velvet mover.

There is a magic about you. I can feel it when you’re next to me. The silver down on your forearm, the deep shoosh of your breathing, the obvious electricity – you are humming in my senses. I want you like a stone falls to earth. I want you like the rain.

You know that if you touched me … I would melt away.

Love letter # 250

I hear your song everywhere. It sings beneath the fray. It hovers behind the unending clamour – like memory – waiting to be dislodged. It is the rhythm of breath; so often unnoticed. It is the subtle scent of the ground, trampled by the hectic air. It is always there.

Somehow, you are inside me. By some magic I have yet to fully fathom, this blood is also yours. You run like a river, wild beneath my skin – and I am a pebble rolling. But as long as I end up in the ocean with you …

As long I am near enough for whispers. As long as I can hear you sing.