Love letter # 410

I am writing to thank you; but also to apologise. The latter is because I am breaking my silence, the former is because you give me the only reason to do so.

The bare truth of the matter is that our brief exchanges – your smiles, those hugs you give me, the touches – remind me. They are, shall we shall say, the solitary snowflakes of a barren season. They represent the only thing vaguely approaching the kind of attention that I have almost forgotten. For even if the effect melts away and is unintended, it is a beautiful dusting while it lasts.

But I am no fool, no mad hormonal fantasist. I know you are simply being friendly – but if sometimes I seem to lapse into a foggy bumbling clumsiness it is because when you are next to me my composure turns to slush. I think perhaps it is simply the fact of being seen, being even briefly selected, (so unusual of late), that breaches the wall of compromise I have so carefully constructed.

And really, here it is – the ‘why’ of this letter. It’s a plea to you and a warning for me. Not so close. Not unless.

But then again, maybe even that would be too much.

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