Love letter # 290

I saw you this morning – but I’m fairly sure you didn’t see me. What struck me was how light you seemed. Your complexion. The way your hair fell. The jaunty rhythm of your walk. I was reminded of the sirens in your eyes and of all the madness they used to induce in me.

In some ways I was glad – relieved that we were no more. For now I am free of the blinding, humbling, crazy-making feelings that the merest touch of your hand once set off in me. Not just fireworks. Fire storms. Indeed, I think it’s fair to say I lost myself in those great waves.

And yet, when you turned the corner – out of sight once more – I understood with a cold shudder what I had lost. A kind of hope. A life outside of my own self-serving thoughts.

Thus I am writing to you this evening to say without reservation that it was my neediness, not your cruelty. My weakness, not your arrogance. Sure, you contributed your fair share of poor behaviour to the silliness but it is clear to me now that the war between us started in my suspicions and spread from there.

For this I apologise – not simply because I ruined my own love but because I trampled on yours too. I can only hope that you have by now sweated out the poison I poured into you and that the beauty which first drew me to you is shining brighter and stronger than ever. From my brief glimpse of you earlier today, it certainly looked that way.


Love letter # 330

When I walked beside you yesterday it was as though the pelting rain were washing me clean. Drowning me in a beautiful monsoon. Turning the parched terrain into a sea of flowers.

Yes, it may well have been a grand delusion – but what spellbinding hallucination it was. For a few moments at least I was light and clean and my vision was as clear and euphoric as the morning light is after a long and fractuous night.

In life’s ordinary passage we may only be granted small windows with which to view the promised glory. At the sight of your smile I was granted one such audience. And in the tender shimmer of your eyes I had the hope that such splendour may lay in wait for one such as I.

Love letter # 248

Hindsight maybe cruel, even unfair – but it illuminates the patterns that repeat in our lives. The dramas that play out over and over. And it makes us ask the question. What exactly was it that I thought I wanted?

I can see now why you left. I pushed, you pulled. I wasn’t sure, so I pushed some more. You ran. I never allowed you the space to love me because I was at you the whole time. Your love – however great it may have been – got smothered by my need for proof. Because it wasn’t really love I was craving. It was certainty.

(It is an impossible religion. Please do not convert to it.)

Yet for all that, whenever I think of you, I still miss you. As ridiculous as things became, I never forgot the fire in your eyes. Or the way your tears welled. For I remember the light – and the hand that put it out.

Love letter # 417

My love for you is almost entirely imagined. It exists in the velvety realm between fantasy and despair. Silly ideas and simple facts. It brings them together. Tears them apart.

And who knows what else?

Because you sure haven’t noticed. Maybe I am someone who simply flickers into your attention from time to time. Not worthy of closer observation. Allowed to pass.

But I can see right through the auto-pilot. See who you are. Much softer than you like to pretend. Someone imbued with real warmth – but maybe a little scared. And bruised, of course.

Perhaps one day you will stop – and there will be that moment and we will both know.

Until then I shall render the entire scene in daydream. Over and over until it comes out just right.