Tag Archives: Copies of love letters

Love letter # 321

I recognised you in the gaps – the tiny spaces left between busyness, bubbliness and booze. Your dark heart, shining like a beautiful star. The one who yearns, who dips and soars, who wants something more. I saw her in the silences, in the way her eyes sometimes pierced the innumerable distances. Lonely, wondering, full of extraordinary fire.

She is the one I have not stopped thinking about. She is the one I would fly across the sea to meet again. To dance with her, slow and soft. To let her know. That love is the way – dangerous and dazzling – to heal the wounds of self in the mirror of the other.

Love letter # 362

Baby, you’re a silver dream. Better than a dream machine. You’re the sky in summertime. I love the way your bright light shines. I’m moving to your snaking beat. Sweating in your silken heat.

You get the picture, right? No further revealing required? What’s clear is the way I feel – and what I want to know from you. Do you, do you, do you?

I did not come to beg and plead. Nor to serve a shallow need. I sing to move your heart to pound. To quell the doubts and bring you round. So here I am in naked truth. Should you ever wish for proof.

So yes – no more cards – none left close to this chest anyway. All down on the table now. A seat here waiting.

Love letter # 269

In the softening arms of the evening I fall into the swoon of you. My veins are like electric wires, my breath in gasps. For what a desert I have crossed to be with you. How long I have waited for this lovely rain. This flower that fills my senses.

There are distances unmeasurable – so long they have stood between us. Now vanquished. Even the infinite, it seems, will fold into this tender proximity. Everything contained in your kiss. All gifts at the touch of your hand. As though it were light that we shared. A way of seeing. Being.

Tonight I saw forever in your eyes. How calm and magnificent it was. How small we seemed beside it. Yet safe in its embrace. For in its vast and quiet splendour there are no greedy details. Only love. Shining like the beauty in you.

Love letter # 278

As though no time whatever had passed – only we had gotten older. That awesome light. The very form of you. That golden thread. My heart in full flood. The raindrop returning to its home in the sea. You beside me. Now I see how truly unimportant everything else was. Is. Just to be near you. To know once more. Not for a second did the stars fade out. As though eternity blinked and everything was beautiful once more.

Love letter # 595

I woke up with my heart in pieces this morning – for in my dream I was by your side and you were like the angel I had always imagined. The girl who melted everything.

Yet you and I both know that in this more solid world such hazy visions do not withstand the force of human frailty. It is the irrefutable difference between these two poles – the hoped for and the actual – that broke me open. In the realm of sleep we loved each other; as though there were no lines between us. In the daylight we do not even speak.

Last night you said that you still loved me. In that sweet cloud I believed you. But of course, you never did. You simply tolerated me. Put up with a fool and his unwanted desires. Told whatever lies you felt were appropriate. For my part, I looked past all the evidence, blinded by hunger. By a weakness stronger than self-respect.

If you were the one who abused, I was the one who allowed it. Mine was the longing. The void. The loneliness. Yours was the air that rushed to fill the vacuum I created. You could have been more honest – much more so – but you were as beholden to your fears as I was to mine. Though I am not responsible for your appalling behaviour, I am 100% culpable in mine. I wanted that beautiful dream so much – that fantasy version of you – that in a way my folly engineered your Machiavellian response. Perhaps this is why my heart is breaking right now.

Or maybe because it took a dream for me to allow you the room to love me truly in return.

Love letter # 414

Forgive me – for I have been the fool of beauty. It has unwound me. Stripped me back. So much so that I wonder at its power.

What is this perfection of form, this ideal, that it so dissolves the structures of reason? How can a way of seeing, a kind of knowing, make so splendid the shape of the world that even though the sound mind senses the misty error of its perceiving, still it is swayed?

My years and all their collected and catalogued disappointments tell me that you are just one of many – another other, about which I know scarce more than optimism will contend – and yet … how you move in subtle glory. Fine of figure. Sweet of disposition. Sharp and quick of mind and humour.

Why is it that I would willingly blow my cover to show my heart to you? Why would I bend to shape of your touch? Kneel at the shrine of your kiss? Because there is something in beauty that must be revealed. Beheld.

We all are broken and corrupted creatures – yet in our beauty we are nigh divine. As you seem to me now. For here are the very bells – chiming like a song in your nearness – that have woken me from my sensible slumber and turned my maddened eyes to thee.

Love letter # 401

This is your time of year; the soft and quiet settling of winter. In your boots and scarves. Your alabaster skin in the pale and watery light. Dark eyes shining out of the mist. Warm breath foggy as you stand beside me. The promise of a hearth inside you. The welcoming crackle of your smile.

For when the early night falls and bare trees make bony lines in crisp moonshine, I am at one with you – wrapped in cosy arms. In the hibernating world, spring is being prepared – locked yet in damp ground – but there for all to know, should they wish to. And we do.

In this seasonal chill I celebrate the rich and earthy beauty of you. Where all else seems grey and uninspired, you come alive. Fleur d’hiver. Brighter than sky. Lighter still than the smoky, drifting mizzle of evening. Making everything gorgeous.

Love letter # 368

Once we had that classic thing; you know how it goes – you and me against the world. Sure it was a delusion but at the time it was the most powerful and wonderful thing there was. I felt as though somebody, at last, got me. That quirky take on things that was mine – it was yours too. Together we were everything.

Now, when I look back, I am tempted to see the ashes of dreams – but I always stop myself. For that dream is alive. It lingers in the crease of your smile. In the way you look at me. In the arch of an eyebrow. These days we only have it in brief fits. Yet we still have it.

I try to remember this when we’re fighting.

Love letter # 373

This is for all of us – the great unremembered. The ones who shall end in dust.

In this universe of time we are but sub-atomic flickers. In the crush of history, we are the buried empires – the nameless bones – the unrecorded particulars. Less than forgotten. Barely distinguishable from the great nothing.

And when we have all vanished, the world will turn without us – its epic circles bigger than anything we could ever fashion. And it will turn as though we never were.

For we are but the small and lonely watchers. Lonely but for you.

In the shimmering sea of everything, we the tiny swimmers gasp for life – trapped in the cell of the self – looking out to the void – somehow knowing that we too shall be seen. And by that very act of seeing, created.

Just as it was in the beginning – when The Oneness became The Twoness – when The One made The Other in order to make itself.

Because down here in the dirt – in the almost infinitely minute world of you and me – the same great symmetries apply. I am nought without you.

Though it may well be true that eternity moves as it will – unruffled by the arrogant bluster of my striving, deaf to all my self-seeking noise, thankless in the face of all my apparent wisdom – the quiet and graceful mathematics of the universe will be rendered nigh divine by my overwhelming love for you.

Because of you there is music. And boundless beauty. All the nuanced strains of joy and despair. Every exquisite detail imaginable. You, my grain of sand, I shall adore – for in your fragile hands absolutely everything shall be held.

Though I may gaze into a cold infinity of stars it is when I wake in the night – you by my side – that I sense the splendour of things. That I truly am.

When even all of this is ash and silence and we are not even scratches on the skin of time, at least I will have loved you – and by my love I will have apprehended the fathomless beauty. That single, sustained, everlasting note of music which – when heard – becomes the song of being. To which I will have danced with you.

For if ever I am – so too are you.