Love letter # 323

Your walk. The hypnotic sway of it. The quiet way you dance, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to anything but the ecstasy of music. The subtlety of your smile. How you seem to know something the rest of us don’t.

And then there’s the distance. That spectral horizon your eyes always drift out towards. As though you do not really belong here with us. Grubby, stupid humans.

Sometimes, I’ll be honest, I am in silent awe. Your beauty has a quality that obliterates expectation. Destroys complacency. Melts away the trivia of detail. Maybe it is a kind of test. If so, I submit to the rules of the examination. Not merely as a stumbling and hopeful stooge of desire but to hold up the mirror I know you’ve been searching for. To see you. And give you a reason to look.

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Love letter # 886

Of course I lashed out at you. It’s what injured people do. Defend the ground they think is theirs. Blame the other.

Neither of us were saintly, let’s be frank. Our dynamic was both destructive and self-affirming. Over time and poorly chosen words we both threw up barricades. The patterns became deep ruts, tracks from which we could not divert.

So we went around in circles – vicious ones indeed – until …

Now, from the distance of healed up cuts, I can see how easily things could have been different, how I could have made other choices. Truth be told, I knew it back then too but I was stubborn and prideful, too convinced of my ‘rightness’ to understand what I was about to lose in order to gain or maintain some delusory upper hand in a ridiculous stand-off that never needed to happen in the first place.

Whatever you were, I was a fool. Worse – arrogant, even spiteful. I loved you, I really did, and that made me afraid, and in my fear … well, y’know.

I recognise all this now and apologise for my part in our ruin. I can only hope that this may still mean something to you – because it does to me. Even after everything.