Love letter # 234

“When you let yourself be wrong, then you will know the truth.”

I am not sure if this is an old saying or not – but it makes sense to me in our current circumstance. I do not for one moment believe it will make you run into my arms – as I wish you would – but rather, I say it because I see that your pride and stubbornness are stopping you from having the love you deserve and the happiness you wish for. I know that you have been hurt – as I have – and I understand that the timing may not be quite right for you; but it strikes me that the wall around you is more like a prison than a salvation.

I see in you the common fear of pain – the one we all share to some degree. I am sure that you feel that to allow yourself to be vulnerable again would simply open you up to further abuse and heartache. But those who are impervious are joyless – and those who deny weakness have no strength.

You have such a beautiful kindness in you, my love. No doubt this is why you have been so hurt before. My fear is that you are retreating into hardness and suspicion as a way of negating your capacity for both pain and caring. I understand that it is too late for me but it bothers me that you may well one day shut out the one who truly is right for you.

There are so many things that I wish – for you – for you and I – but I know that the way things are right now make these things improbable. Perhaps impossible. And oh how I wish I was wrong.

Love letter # 281

Sometimes – when you are near me – I am in full flood. As though you trigger an avalanche in me. I bite my lip. Keep quiet the chorus and its intemperate declaration. Avert my eyes. Walk away. Just to right my breath. Re-compose.

Do not think that I am avoiding you – because I carry you with me always. A heady flush in the blood. A joy that verges on water. A crush that ruins all my best laid plans.

For when you are as you were today, your beauty and kindness and utter fragility shoots me through with light and I am lifted up – as if by some mighty tide – and carried to a place where your love is my love and there is no further need for these silly boundaries we have drawn.

Love letter # 370

You ask me what is wrong; although I cannot believe you do not know. There is nothing wrong, per se – only that I love you – and that I have done so for ages. Silently, because I respect your situation. In my head, because it is the only safe place for me to say these things.

For I am neither a fool nor a bully. Your body language tells me the truth. The way you withdraw. The subtle way you have of keeping me at arm’s length. Maybe the clever tacticians are right and I should manoeuvre you into it – make you realise. But that wouldn’t feel right – and anyway, I like you too much.

Yet to the quiet music of my heart, I can see us dancing. And in the secret fire of my sinews I can feel how good it would be. Perhaps if I did not know that we could make stars, I would not stare into the sky and wonder. But I do – and that’s what’s wrong.

Every day I promise to forget – to be cool. But then I see you – and because you are smart and caring and wonderful – you notice and you ask and I feel compelled to stammer ridiculous denials, which I know you do not believe. And I do this because I am afraid.

Because I would rather hide from you than have you hide from me.

Love letter # 229

Though we may dream of it, I think we all eventually come to accept that there is no perfection in these things. No one can fulfil us completely. Indeed, those we love most often create disappointment. I realise that this is your experience – and of course it is mine too.

This is why you are holding me at bay. For I am just another suitor – full of promises and hunger – hankering after your body and your affection. Just the latest in a line stretching back to your teenage years. Nothing to mark me out from a history of botched and abusive romance.

I cannot fight your bruises – nor upend your memory. Neither will I offer you eternity or paradise, for these are not in my power to make yours. All I can bring to you is the flower that is blooming in my soul. The exhilaration in my blood whenever you are near to me. The tenderness that overwhelms me when you smile.

Perhaps you have heard such declarations before and found them wanting. You may even think them sophistry – a trick to unwind you. Yet if you could know what was in my heart – hear this song I sing for you – all doubt would be erased. You would see that what little I have I am willing to give freely to you. All the love I can muster. Every ounce of my feeble treasure. Nothing kept hidden.

And only the light shining – pure and cleansing – like renewal.

Love letter # 209

I don’t care about the hundred thousand reasons not to be together. I only care about being with you. I’ve heard all the reasons why it won’t work but I am only interested in the overwhelming sense that it might; and that we should, at the very least, try. True, it will change the friendship we currently have – but then so will doing nothing. Is it not better to fail in love than to rust away in fear? Is not a kiss a far better thing than a cold shoulder? Yes, we can stay where we are – but then, in effect, we will be truly lost. I say – damn the arguments against – take the love while it’s there, while its light shines bright and clean and pure. This is what I want to be mistaken in. Fire, not reasons.

Love letter # 424

At the end of it all – when the baubles of vanity finally reveal themselves to be of no value – we can come to understand the absolute supremacy of love. Not simply because love can create life itself or make us glow with the most extraordinary sense of well-being – but because it represents a bridge out of the self and into the wonderful sea of being. When we truly love, we are more than ourselves, more than that tiny, mortal speck we call I.

From you I have learned all this – and now I will remember it every day until there are no more days.

And even then I will love you.

Love letter # 284

We appear to live in a world that has little time for real love. Romance and sexualised obsession – yes – but that more subtle and profound feeling of care and deep desire – less so. I sense this so-called sophistication in your urbane stand-offishness. I think perhaps this is the fear of emotion in disguise.

No doubt this is why my feelings for you seem so over the top. They conflict with the cult of imperviousness that prevails these days. We speak the language of ‘being in tune with our emotions’ but we most often use it to talk down and cover up how we feel.

I have been as guilty of this around you as you have around me. But now I simply cannot abide the constraint. I think about you all the time. I dream us together. I imagine the tenderness we could be sharing.

At the risk of terrifying you with my primitive frankness; I love you, I desire you and I absolutely want to be with you. And even though I will cut myself to pieces waiting for your reply, I say these things without fear because the polite, evasive, non-committal style we have adopted up until now is no longer an option for me.

I will accept your rejection before I will slink off into the future never knowing if I had a real chance with you. And I will sport the bruise with honour, knowing that the finest of human qualities – namely, the capacity for love – did not lay dormant in me and did not bow to cowardice or fashion.