Love letter # 453
I realise that many eyes are watching you, consuming you, and that in scattered dreams you are daily evoked.
I too conjure you in the hush of thought. Sit with you in the vacuum of longing. Imagine words unheard, touch as yet unknown. Are you merely the sylph of configuration? The siren of incompleteness?
I watch, and from fragments, an idyll is made. Yet, in the calm of your absence, I know that the vaporous avatar of my creation is not you, for you likely reside beyond my knowing.
If it is this mystery I desire, this phantom loveliness, I am willing to risk the less rosy details of human contact to feel the hot proximity and know the blood red animal. For now I am done with watching; and I will take blindness that I might truly see.
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