Love letter # 502

In the beginning there was a kind of blindness. In the end I was staring at wreckage. In between there was you. Or rather, the manner of my breaking open upon your touch. The dumbstruck awe, the distemper of desire, the sheer terror that only beauty can evince.

You came, I fell at your door, you fled.

I chased, you ran even harder, and before too long even the angel of love had departed.

In pettiness and anger I blamed. In hurt I cursed. And yet, in loss, I soon found. With rubble I made anew. With time I gave thanks – for the ecstasy of your kiss and the wrench of its withholding. For the breath of your whispers and the silence that came after.

Now there is a kind of dust; the soft settling of memory and forgetting. I leave a trail with my finger – the surface shiny underneath – and I like the taste. Not just the ghost of you or even simply the echo of an erstwhile me, but something distilled and refined. An essence I could not detect in the flurry of the drama. That which has survived the fire. A rain of ash which is now a springtime of renewal. To which I am, at last, no longer blind.

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Love letter # 469

The sheer power of a solitary word can sometimes be overwhelming; like when I struggle to say your name out loud. It is as though my body remembers the very shape of the breath it takes to form the sound and, in doing so, goes back in time. To the singing temple bell of your hello. To the warm sea of your gaze.

Someone asked me about you yesterday and at the mere mention of you I was not simply transported but shaken apart by the precise earthquake of one single word. Your name. Nothing more

Today I am wondering if there is anything else. Perhaps this amazing physical wave of surrender is the only truly liberating force available to us. The only thing that will take down the facades we so carefully construct to obscure the truth from ourselves.

Your name is the ocean – and even now I remain in its flood. What a sublime testament to the space we created in our time. Thank you, my love – for I am blessed once more.

Love letter # 762

I think you know how grateful I am. It could so easily have been different. A turn of the corner here, a small delay there, and the river of chaos that bumped us together would have swept us oblivious to destinations we can now only wonder about.

Our real fortune, of course, is that we both have what the other most wanted to find. Not missing parts but matching courage. The vision fearless.

Now we both laugh at the absurdity of those around us, at their ridiculous, ineffective levers of control. Together we have discovered the strength to reject all of their bloated ‘thou shalt not’ narratives, to see through the phoney divisions of class, gender and sexuality that those around us wished to have us accept. Have tried so hard to force down our throats. Only we don’t swallow.

Perhaps in a year or two they will be grinning triumphally saying ’I told you so’ but even if the grind and the differences do get on top of us we will have had the experience of today. We will have held out for something more than obedience and TVs. Than monochromatic suburban smallness. Than sticking to the party line and hating ourselves for it.

It sounds a trifle romantic, I know – but in your arms I have found stars hitherto unglimpsed. Reason for living scarcely permissible in the narrow, must have, status obsessed straits of work & spend, amuse & medicate.

Okay, so these fighting words may well come back to bite, but I will have loved you in the interim and known your love in return. For this, I shall forever give thanks. Because now that we are together we are scared of nothing – and I will never forget how good this feels.

Love letter # 294

I am so glad you came into my life; even though it is apparent that you will not ultimately choose me. (Maybe I am wrong about this. Either way, that choice is yours to make – and I leave it to you.)

For my part, how good it is to be flooded with sweetness, to be transformed by a smile, uplifted by a small sign of extra care. In the end – after sex and novelty have had their sway – it is intimacy and recognition that will carry us through the night. Even as you withhold your kiss and bow to the fears that beset you I see how you have reached out – how your fingers have prised me out of the weave.

Though it may go no further, I thank you for the reminder – for allowing me the very idea that someone out there sees me. That somebody truly beautiful knows.

I have floated on this for weeks. It has washed me clean. Today I am lighter by the precise measure of your likeness. I wish you would fly with me – but even if you won’t I am grateful for the joyous elevation you have lately made possible.

Your airborne friend,