Love letter # 529

Is it realistic for me to harbour hope, to imagine a future including you? Much as I would like to say yes, when I wake from the dream of your beauty, truth is the sober eye. It is clear to me that I could offer and you would accept, and that for a short time, while the hormone buzz and the novelty lasts, it would seem like a kind of deliverance. But then the cracks would widen and the weight of practical consideration ā€“ indeed, of fairness ā€“ would no longer be so readily bearable. And knowing this, I cannot un-know it, and thus, I cannot enfold you in my fantasy. Desire is an overwhelming engine, yet even now, as it thrums in my belly, I sense the upcoming crash. The corner is not blind, and I shall not fly around it with you as my passenger. So perhaps this is how I might love you best. Letting go.

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