Love letter # 78

These were the nights when I used to dream of someone like you. Now I walk with that ambiguous phantom: memory. Beneath the sound of laughter, deep in the smell of skin and humid air, ghosts of dead summers – the long faded evenings of your favour.

Yet for all that distance, it’s all so close. The hairs on my forearm still stand up for it and the yawning hunger still grips my chest like gravity. We think our love is a grand idea but really it’s a physical presence. It’s in our muscles – and no amount of years will ever dig it out.

Mostly, it’s dormant – but tonight … alive like fire.

Even if in the dream of a deluded fool, I walked again by your side and my love was as warm as the beautifully falling night. By daybreak I will be back to normal but here in the insect buzz of hot midnight, you are still my queen and I am still yours.

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