Love letter # 205

Desire, love, connection – call it what you will – it appears to happen by some magical process. The sight of you has sent the signals rocketing through my system; that warm, enveloping tide of hormones and recognition. The physical crush in my chest. The gravitational force that urges me to touch you whenever I can.

In another world this might not be a problem. But alas, this is the world we find ourselves in – the world in which you are already betrothed.

I see your eyes looking out at me. I read what they’re saying. Oh please … please don’t.

We all choose the path we walk upon – and I have chosen this: to adore you quietly and allow you your decision. I will not say that I am a better man, for I may well not be. Indeed, I am just another man who wants you. A man who sees the incarcerated beauty glowing inside you. (Or at least thinks he does.)

I am prepared to accept that this is all a delusion – another grand, romantic folly in a long line of pseudo-poetic mishaps. But maybe one day you will prove me wrong.

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