Love letter # 748 They say that first impressions last. This is not the case with you. At first, all I noticed was your exterior; that abrasive, sarcastic outer layer you project. It pushed me backwards. Next, I met you with your party face on. Life and soul and so on. But then you let…

Love letter # 697 Now that I have seen you, I cannot un-see. Until today, you were a name in a group chat. Tonight, you are the lingering sensation of a fine-boned handshake, a picture of wide open eyes, and the thought of coffee-silk skin. Did you hold my gaze for a moment more than…

Love letter # 525 Lately, I have dreamt of angels; most of them resembling you.

Letter to my misremembered sweetheart

It is clear. I remember you hazily. Incorrectly. Does this matter? In my reconfiguring of us, much of the contradictory truth has been reduced to official fiction. Again, what of it? If I imagine you falsely, and my retrospective editing hurts no one, scarcely even me, what value exactness? Am I not better to love…

Love letter # 539 5:47pm. It is the precise colour of my love for you. The angle of the light is just about cutting me in two. The irrecoverable distance. The distance of my inability to say. The distance of your other life. I take solace in present company. Sunlight on a solitary stem of…

Love letter # 959 You. In those sunglasses. In that lovely black dress. In my room. Me. Beside you. Within you. Lost. We two. A singular choreography. Like solo piano. Dusk and vapour. Breath and dissolving. You in the half light. Me revealed.    

Love letter # 508 There is a well known prayer attributed to St Francis. Though I do not believe in personality gods or seek the purported wisdom of holy books, there are a few lines that resonate. Not seek to be consoled, as to consoleTo be understood, as to understandTo be loved, as to loveFor…

The sublime courtship

It was once so simple. They were children and they danced because they wanted to, holding on a little longer, tiny lights flickering like candles. Gentle…luminous…softly melting …gone by daybreak. She, who was not yet Queen, used to say: “One day I will make you my King.” He, who could not yet read between the…

He knows where I am

He sings to me. His voice, I hear it in the aching grind of the earth’s steady turn. It calls to me from the radio, seeking me out, a cat in the shadows that never pounces. This gives me hope. I’m a cynical bitch most times. I believe in nothing, but I play the game…

Love letter # 634 I don’t mean this to sound like obsession…but I still think of you. Not in words, or in imagined scenes, but with a strange kind of sensing. Muscle memory perhaps. Something unconscious. It is as though there is a door in space and time through which I can pass in a…