Love letter # 89
You said: ‘How did this all start?” I said: “In the usual way.”
Call it hope, call it plain old gravity – hell, you could even call it stupidity. We weren’t the first. Doesn’t everybody want to believe – if only just once? I for one loved the drink of star shine.
And no – I don’t regret it. Scars are the stripes of lovers. The unwounded heart is barely worth the name.
Of course I’d do it again – with equal abandon. No one ever flew without taking to the air.
My love, I would throw you out the aircraft if it would reignite that supernova smile of yours. These drab safe walls you live behind; they will only protect you from joy.
There is no guarantee – there never was. People are imperfect, promises break, lies get told. This is the world. Better to risk it killing you than to wither alone someplace else.
So take these dice in your perfect hands and throw them high; and when they land dance amongst the scatterings as you did when you were wonderful.
You will forget me then.
Love letter # 110
Having endeavoured to maintain a modicum of sanity I must now confess to abject failure in this regard. I look back across the gulf that separates me from my old self and the mad river is you.
Naturally, there are blessings: the coldness that surrounded me, the dullness in my heart – they have been replaced by fire. If I was living beforehand, I am simply alive now.
However, I have cause to wonder who I am. What became of that reasonable man? Was this delirious demon always there; a hellcat in hiding?
Composure is just a mask waiting for a kiss to destroy it. Perhaps even sanity is simply what we accept in place of love. If I have bled at least it proved the existence of blood. This knife makes me real.
It would scarcely surprise you to know that I have been through anger – that I have sought refuge in the treehouse of spite. You will, I hope, be pleased to learn that I have abandoned such follies. I live now with invisible dancers, with those shimmering, magical beings who love without reason – who love simply because it is the best of all possible ways.
So to you, my friend, I give abundant thanks. If I wake up tomorrow in a beautiful place it will be because you trashed the maps. Indeed, this whole world is new because of you. Was there ever a greater gift?
Love letter # 95
Sometimes – the rain is just so … A mellifluous fat bellied mist. Like angel pearls parachuting. Almost too beautiful. Like you.
Love letter # 24
For the times we had, I offer simple gratitude. I am profoundly grateful for the beautiful days and the satin nights. I give thanks for the times you called to tell me you loved me. I am blessed to have held you in my arms. It was my incredible fortune to kiss you.
I thank every star in heaven for the time we danced along the roadside. I am forever glad for the sexy text messages, grateful to have known your scent up close, honoured to have loved you.
But so too am I grateful for your diaphanous deceptions; for your flagrant disrespect. And for your countless lies and your obvious manipulations, I offer up thanks. I would not be here without your quite remarkable selfishness. It was not your kindness but your cruelty that set me free.
Now – every day – I sink to my knees in gratitude and the love I have for you falls like the cleansing rain, washing away my conceit. How lucky I was to have known you so.
Love letter # 72
And now … calm. The great quietness of aftermath. You and me not talking. Yet still you are the sun. Still you are the evening, the soft relief of closure. And your name is the in breath; the automatic motion of life. I love you without wanting. I want you without requiring. How I wish I could wake up beside you; although of course I won’t. Yet still I give warmth to the cold side of the bed, for there will always be a hearth for you, a light flickering, a room in the corner of the world. We may pay no heed but the gods sigh regardless – because we are the beaten up stars. We are the eternal broken down. Or rather, we were. Now we’re just islands – and the sea is our union. With my love I send you little waves. You might look for jewels in the sand. You may know where they came from. That’s not the point. I once loved you for the echo – now I just love you … now I just love you.
Love letter # 45
Why the drugs? They allow me to use the mirror, they paper over the obvious. I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I stopped to acknowledge.
Some people are stupid – they destroy what they love by oversight. More fool them. I was not so lucky. I torched the treasures with open eyes. It wasn’t malice – I could nearly live with that. It was selfishness.
Perhaps even this drama of apology is ego in a mask. Maybe sorry is the most self-seeking thing I could ever say.
Yet I cannot let this pass. This awful wreckage is not of your making, despite what I said. If you were once cruel I was twice vain. I understand that no one is truly blameless – not even you – but I was insatiable. Greedy. Feeding on you. No wonder you bit back.
I took your hope and made it arch. I put the kink in your once perfect smile. I was the one who said your love wasn’t good enough.
Why am I saying this? Partly I have a need to hurt myself but mostly I have a desire for you to know that there are much better worlds than this. Tonight is not the end of love even if it is the annihilation of us. There is no victory here, only loss … and the chance for you to be beautiful again.
I’m not sure I could ever make it up to you – except with goodbye. So goodbye. Delete my number as I have just deleted yours. Cut this bloody tie. Let this blood drain away.
Love letter # 51
I saw a girl who looked like you; she made me tremble. With a trivial turn of her head, with an accidental glance, she took an old man’s composure and made wide eyes of it. She won’t even remember. I do nothing but.
The children are playing now, the ghosts are out of their cupboards; scattered around the room like the disinterred photographs that lay on my table. Your eyes staring up at me; that wonderful glow of yours. Us.
I am no fool – but God I wish I was. I wish that girl was you – you as you were, come to take me back. This distance between us – measured in years and circumstance – it could melt to inches. Couldn’t it?
I know the theory. No turning back. But what if we left the diamonds behind? What if we were just too young to know? I might be ready for you now. You might find a space for me. All those things we were afraid of – did they not turn out to be simple spots of rain?
And to think, I had put your memory away. Grown up, moved on, etc. Yet here I am – one girl on a crowded train away from writing crazy emails to a love I last kissed a thousand years ago. Tells you something, I guess.
I don’t believe in miracles – but I’d like to; and I’m old enough now to admit it. I’d trade away my hard won self-determination for another half hour, for the merest chance at resurrection. This damned wisdom I carry around; it has only taught me one thing. The only thing worth knowing.
That I would rather be with you.