Love letter # 207

We both know the odds. The statistics say we’re almost sure to fail – and we both have nicks and cuts to bear witness to our past mistakes. I’m sure we could sit up all night comparing them. Yet perhaps we should not be afraid to lose – but rather, be bold enough to win. Whatever win means.

Yes, it’s a cynical world – and we’re both cynics. Neither of us really buy that romance shtick anymore. In fact, that Hollywood love story thing is way past its used by. But that’s not the only kind of love – and I have no desire to live in fear. Instead, I have a desire for you.

This could well be the beginning of another misadventure but I still have room for risks and bruises and the circle of tender arms around me. I am willing to say go – perhaps just for the thrill of your kiss, perhaps for something more. Are you?

Love letter # 225

And in the evening, when you are like the beauty of the dusk, I walk in your pale glory and lift up mine eyes to you. And there I see the wonder; and am overflowing.

And at the sign of your arrival; and at the sound of your breathing … there I feel the tides arising; as though you were the moon above and I was the acquiescent sea.

And when I hear your voice, such is its song that I am compelled to sing it afresh; so that I might say what you have said and feel your very words become me.

If I have walked the path that you have walked, if I have knelt beside you, then I am the child of fortune … for in the very form of you I am blessed.

Love letter # 291

The wellspring of my fortitude is the river of my pain – and the light that I see by is the thrower of my deepest shadows. It is you – my dawn and my night. And your blessed kiss – which is my succour and my suffering.

When we love we open the gates to the vast and contrary flood – to the wisdom that knows nothing – to the idea that is not an idea. It is not an attainment but a surrender. I have neither won you, nor been claimed by you. I have simply allowed myself to fall from the sky with you. Like rain. Like settling dew.

We are the pearls of accident – the darlings of just because – and ours is the blind divine.

Love letter # 441

I dived too deep into the pool of your gaze. I drowned in the honey of your skin. Held fast by your pretty little fingers. Unwound by the slow release of your affection. And my resistance evaporated just as your warmth turned to clouds … Bad timing, huh?

I should have loved you sooner. Perhaps been more certain. Less afraid. Or maybe I knew all along that you didn’t mean it.

But I did. Still do. If that makes any difference.

Love letter # 260

In the mirror of my light – my sacred darkness. On this shaky ground – this here tower of strength. And from my self-destruction – everything I make.

Do you know of these things, my beautiful love? Are you, like me, your own negation?

I say this now because I have come to believe that everything is the smash of opposites – the fission/fusion, create/destroy dance of a world too wonderful to put into a sentence.

And yet my love for you contains it all – because it is the unbounded ocean from which we all came and to which we shall all return.

Love letter # 239

This is what I don’t get. You smile, you let me touch you, you even hold my hand. Damn it you even seem to care. Then I open the way for you, show you I’m responsive, ready to take a risk for you and … you shut down.

That’s fine – you’re allowed to. You have to do what’s best for you. I get that. I respect that. It’s even okay if you just changed your mind – but please, don’t pretend not to know why I’m a bit sullen and withdrawn. I have to protect myself; just as maybe you did when you realised it was all about to happen and got scared.

So here’s the deal: if I respect your right to abruptly switch off the sweetness, will you at least acknowledge my reasons for not being Mr Happy & Wonderful around you and tending to my bruises instead.