Love letter # 33

The lovers are the kings, the lonely are the cherished, the forgotten are the exalted. And the beggars shall live in the palace; and the mighty dwell amongst the ashes. And then the angels will walk with the fallen – the proof being you.

I do not know why you are down here with me – but you are – and I am uplifted. My dirty heart is clean in your hands; my rusted chains are gold. These rags; they are silk. This cell; it is liberty. And out of this silence; song.

When there is love in the world, hunger itself is plenty and the darkness is strewn with light. Where love makes its house, there are no slaves. And then, even the broken will see beauty once more – the proof being me.

Love letter # 76

There was a moment; that second when you … and in that beat my fear turned to brightness, my resolve gave way to keening. You cut the brake lines. You sent me shooting through space.

I was a willing sucker. I wanted it. I sang for the rushing of blood. I begged for the horses to be set free. I called forth the wildness – and that’s where you stepped in.

You are the untamed ocean. You are the promise of rain. I was a desert, thirsty for the return of the sky.

You fed me a flood. I duly drowned.

In the resulting sea of flowers I call out your name, a dazed croak in the vastness. It is said that in the middle of nowhere a single voice cannot be heard – but that won’t stop me.

I used to believe I knew music – now I’m a dancer. That no one else is watching is no reason to sit down. Even now … I still fly through the air for you.

Love letter # 19

It is though, at any moment, my secret will come hurtling out of me. The veneer I wear, the various masks I don to get through the day – they are cracked beyond repairing. When you stand next to me I have to hold my breath, bite my tongue until it bleeds.

And you don’t even realise, unless you too are a secret keeper of mad and improbable flames.

I have added up all the things I stand to lose – they amount to nothing. People speak of things like pride and appearance as if they actually meant something; but they are zero next to you. I could trash this whole stupid house of cards for the memory of an hour in your splendour.

Maybe you’ve heard all this before. Perhaps you have a cellar full of forlorn fools who threw it all down for you – after all, beauty makes arrogance kneel and hunger makes beggars of kings.

But fear not, I have lived long enough in silence to know that some things can barely be whispered. Look through me in the morning and I will know that you do not want to know. And who knows, I might even breathe a little easier afterwards. At least that way I’ll get to keep my imperial lies.

I am used to the grand falsehood; it is my world – although tonight I yearn for another. For this longing is my truth, this desire my open road. Say you will and I will throw away these keys and live under the heavens with you.

Be in no doubt, beautiful girl – I will if you will.

Love letter # 28

I am no saint; I know there were days when bitterness almost had me by the throat. I would listen to my fellow divorcees and I would share their complaints. But not for long – because I could not forget that things in our house were never that bad.

Yes, we ended. Yes, we bled. But no – we did not use the knives.

And now, years down the track, when certain things trigger me, I recall you with a warm buzz.

So much of me is you in trousers. The things I do, the food I buy, the bed I still sleep in. All that time we had – it didn’t just fade to nothing. Okay, so I no longer sport that band of gold – but I know where it is and some nights I hold it in the palm of my hand just to honour everything.

You married a boy but you left a man. In some ways I almost owe you my adulthood.

And of course, the biggest lesson was the end. Had to be really; because I took you for granted. I assumed you would always be there to open the door. I sure learned.

The empty hallway, the crushing quiet when I clicked out the light, the freezing cold space beside me. I thought some terrible things in that abrupt and awful vacuum.

Maybe now I’m wearing rosy glasses, forgetting the shit we both tried to deny, but I’d rather that than carry round a heart made of stone.

I’m not writing to woo you back or any such foolishness; I’m writing to honour you. To say a simple, if somewhat poetic thank you. The fact that we had it all, (or deluded ourselves that we did), keeps me from the common sourness.

You showed me the world in your eyes, in your incredible tenderness, and in doing so, you cut the chains.

I can but pray that I gave you something half as wonderful.

Love letter # 81

I know it shouldn’t – but the thought of you still bursts me open.

Officially I’m over it – it’s on the public record. I shouldn’t be thinking of you like this. I should have sweated you out by now. So why am I here again – writing it down in this ridiculous fashion?

It’s greedy of me really – blurting it out like this. If only it wasn’t singing inside me, making me swoon, literally taking my breath away. I try to hold down the tide with sensible thoughts, with those thousand and one damn reasons, but still I flock to the well.

I wonder sometimes if this is poison. Or inspiration. I have never felt so naked. Or divine.

To be humbled by love is to be open to life. All my old masks – they are unwearable now. Today I am barefoot and glad of the ground. Maybe I don’t have so far to fall now.

Perhaps without meaning to you have set me free. That fire you lit – it made ashes of my pretence but left the truth outstanding. Thank you.

Love letter # 13

When I look back now I can see how I made it hard for you. I didn’t mean to; but still.

You were telling me all along but I was deaf to everything except what I wanted. You warned me and I acted like a child in reply.

I know you weren’t perfect. I know you cheated. I know you lied – often. I understand how you played me for a lovesick fool – which was exactly what I was. But even taking all that on board, I was the one who fucked it up.

I hoped against hope that you would change, that you would want me in a way you never said you would. It wasn’t just foolish, it was arrogant. No wonder you junked me.

For all my fine words I was trying to control you with my so-called love, to wear you down with sheer, bloody minded affection. Sometimes, the poets are the tyrants.

I can say now that I didn’t love you. I just desired you. Not merely in body, but in spirit. I thought that if I could get you to love me that the awful space inside me would close up. I was shopping for security in your eyes. Suffice it to say, I never found it.

My friends think you broke my heart but I’m starting to believe I broke yours. You tried to have faith in me but I was a false idol. I turned out to be a man after all. Stupid, stupid man.

I’m not sure you ever felt guilty about the way it all broke down – but if you did – don’t. None of this is your fault.

And so today … today I pray for you; for if the angels pay attention to such tiny little voices, you will learn to fly and you will have the light.

Love letter # 57

When you’re around, there is no one else. I’ll admit to being a little bit blinded by you. This electricity is fuzzing my head. It’s almost like being nowhere. Only thing left is the crush – y’know, that thing.

It’s like a hot wire – and my spine is on fire.

Forgive the corny rhyme, babe … but at least now you know you’re driving me wild. That’s gotta feel good. Sure does from my end.

If you want the sensible explanation – it’s like rediscovering the real beneath all the practised, careful half truths of everyday. Here am I – mature, thoughtful, blah, blah, blah – and all I wanna do is take you by the hand. Maybe kiss that mouth.

So what do you reckon … shall we dance?

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