Love letter # 362

Baby, you’re a silver dream. Better than a dream machine. You’re the sky in summertime. I love the way your bright light shines. I’m moving to your snaking beat. Sweating in your silken heat.

You get the picture, right? No further revealing required? What’s clear is the way I feel – and what I want to know from you. Do you, do you, do you?

I did not come to beg and plead. Nor to serve a shallow need. I sing to move your heart to pound. To quell the doubts and bring you round. So here I am in naked truth. Should you ever wish for proof.

So yes – no more cards – none left close to this chest anyway. All down on the table now. A seat here waiting.

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Love letter # 371

It’s the playful glint in your eye. The smirking raised brow. The smile that seems to know pleasurable secrets. These and other things.

Like the velvet of your skin. Its downy feathers. Those plush and fruitful lips of yours. Even the way you walk. To me these are like treasures. Better still, the ecstasy of falling.

Whenever it’s the two of us – speaking in that magic tongue we invented – lighting fires as and when – I come to in Arcadia. For there is nothing so simple and clean as this – nothing more real than the realm of your kiss.

Love letter # 459

A song came on the radio today. Not one I hear that often – but one that still sings of our time together. While it played – and for a few minutes afterwards – I was in love with you all over again. All I could hear was your husky laugh. Taste your mouth. Feel what it felt like to be wanted by you.

Less romantic realities may have ground such wonders to predictable dust, yet my body still holds the sensations. My heart still sounds out your name. Not in deluded hope or obsessional fixation but in honour. For loving you was one of the most wonderfully intense and beautiful things I ever did.

I am not sure where you are tonight, or who you are with, but I am a fire in the arms of memory. Warmed. Glad to have once been so crazy.

I thank you once more for the blood you sent crashing through formerly ossified veins; because, having been broken over the back of you I am no longer afraid of anything. And I will die knowing what it was like to love as though nothing else mattered.

Which it doesn’t.

Love letter # 336

There was a place in time where the light shone bright and brief for you and I. Today it illuminates our memory. Now we stand looking across the line of our separate lives. Two strands, fluttering near in the chance of a breeze. How much has changed – yet what remains! A thing so pure and unsullied. The very spark itself. Sun still sparkling on the back of a turquoise sea.

The blind, egalitarian river of time is sweeping us downstream, disrupting our private summer with the grit of a common autumn. Yet – next to you – even for this serendipitous minute – the bloom is heady with the scent of promise; which, going unfulfilled, becomes a brand new sweetness in a secluded garden of bittersweet treasures. Where even the years shall not dim its loveliness.

Love letter # 491

It is time that keeps us apart. Or more precisely, years. My age, your youth. My yesterdays, your boundless tomorrows.

It is the heedless, evolutionary logic of mortality which shall shut me out from the dazzle your love – which has closed your eyes to the lustre of mine. For I am no mere dreamer; I loiter instead on the sidelines of time, not even daring to imagine your arms about me. Indeed, I know that even to confess this is to condemn myself. In the old and the ugly, love is a kind of malediction.

Yet what more appropriate response to beauty is there but gentle wonder? The heart melting. The soul on fire.

This – and a thousand other reasons. Useless. No warm and private nights. No naughtiness. Not even the whisper of a kiss. Just the banality of years. Your lovers, my silence. Me leaving, you not noticing.

So here – the flower I carry. Persistent little bloom. Heady perfume. I only need breathe it in to know; and knowing, I am beside you – and you are smiling at me – and everything – absolutely everything – is beautiful.

Love letter # 269

In the softening arms of the evening I fall into the swoon of you. My veins are like electric wires, my breath in gasps. For what a desert I have crossed to be with you. How long I have waited for this lovely rain. This flower that fills my senses.

There are distances unmeasurable – so long they have stood between us. Now vanquished. Even the infinite, it seems, will fold into this tender proximity. Everything contained in your kiss. All gifts at the touch of your hand. As though it were light that we shared. A way of seeing. Being.

Tonight I saw forever in your eyes. How calm and magnificent it was. How small we seemed beside it. Yet safe in its embrace. For in its vast and quiet splendour there are no greedy details. Only love. Shining like the beauty in you.