Love letter # 585

Her wish was futile; but she made it anyway, just to see how it might feel to be near you.

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Love letter # 404

When we obliterate the triviality of detail, when we pass through the frontier of control, all we have is the golden light. The pure, unbounded enfolding. The embrace that is not withheld for the want of names or the quibble of character. It is the sea we never leave; in which we are all drowning. Fragile swimmers.

In this extraordinary vastness we are swooning. Inside this immensity we shall neither be lost nor found, woman nor man. Just motes in the eye of the shining. Which shall not blink for judgement – only see. And we … we shall simply be.

Love letter # 360

What is now obvious to me, and I suspect to you as well, is that there is a kind of love that transcends the usual bounds – that has nothing to do with possession or control and does not sit within the cutesy little ring fence of chocolate box romance. Indeed, it is a form of loving that outlasts being together. I am honoured to have had and to still share this remarkable bond with you.

Years may have gone by since the word ‘couple’ applied to us but in your presence, even on the phone, the indefinable and unmappable space we carved out of nothing when we were poetic and hopeful kids still nourishes me. I am thankful to have known the sublime recognition. Of another. Of myself. And each time we linger in this realm together I am reminded and confirmed.

I say this now, not because I miss it, for it is still here, but rather because that mad, heady promise of ‘love you forever’ looks almost certain to be upheld.

Love letter # 347

Rarely does it take more than a splinter of memory. A nuance of light. A scent on the breeze. Just a beat and I’m there with you; and once again it is obvious how I got here.

You were so beautiful I had to look away. Had to leave the room. Because I knew right away. It was there in your eyes, blazing supernova in an otherwise ordinary sky. Your grace was the melting of me, the line of your mouth the unspoken code, your movement the dance that unveils. I was stripped in a blink. There was no possibility of pretence.

Oh, how I wanted it – the cessation of games. The brutal magnificence of unadorned seeing. A pedant’s language dissolved into the purity of speaking. I would have yielded everything; and indeed I did. With abject gladness.

And then you took me in your hands and there was no you and I. Simply us.

I behold you now and, in spite of all the detritus of familiarity and the erosive banality of years, I revisit that shimmering moment of fusion, almost nuclear in its intensity, and I am humbled by your choice of me and thankful that I did not resist when first you promised to shatter me utterly.

And now I take your hand in mine and there is no me and you. Just us, as it ever was.