Love letter # 380
Have you ever felt that someone really gets you? Sees you, hears you? I used to answer no to all these questions. Then I met you.
It wasn’t just that our eyes met and liked what they saw. Yes, it was a kind of chemistry but it went much deeper than the obvious allure.
I think I saw the person inside you peering out at me from behind the bars – as I looked out at you.
Is it truly a hopeless folly to believe that we can reach out across the space in between? Set off a spark in the thin air? Help find the keys for one another?
Though we live in a world that dreams chiefly of itself are we not also free to believe in the idea that with our loving we may change the world? That we may paint the night with stars.
Then again, perhaps all I know is that my vision was filled with you last night and that this morning I am about to send you this.
Love letter # 252
Quite possibly, you are too beautiful for me. As I stand on the brink of your kiss, I feel like someone about to drown. The sheer power of you is frightening and I wonder if the hunger that will be unleashed in me will ever be sated. Will I forever be left wanting and wondering? Chasing something you cannot give?
So yes, this is why I have dwelt on the edge of your nearness. I am not sure that I will survive my desire with even the merest shred of self respect or perspective. We both know that touch explodes reserve. That once naked, there is no hiding. No retreat into the safety of not knowing.
It is not so much that you will see the scars on me but that the force of my loving you will ruin the very flower it seeks to treasure. I will want you more madly than is tolerable – because in your splendid, sparkling eyes I see all the intoxicating glory of promise. For you are like the birth of stars – the beginning of time and possibility. A spark that might just make a life.
And then what?
Love letter # 313
When from the glittering sea you first emerged, body bedizened in salt and sand, I thought that you were the angel of summer. Of all my summers. And wrapped up in your fine form every dream I ever had. All the promises ever made by every lover who passed me by. For yours was the beauty I would have conjured. Yours the eyes that longed for me. The hand that led me into the softness of the night. I have already kissed you in my imagining – your lips like heaven. And you have sighed the song of my surrender; so that now I will follow you out into the waves and we will have the ocean to ourselves.
Love letter # 226
When you see the vicious volcano in me – all fire and spit and ash – what you are seeing is the conflagration in my soul. The one that still lights up the skies for you. Despite everything. Lies, betrayal, etc.
Perhaps one day you will wear my vitriol as a badge of honour. A flag that flies above your citadel, red like fury and desire.
Take the meanest words I have spoken and turn them on their head. Here then, the force of my loving you. I do not seek forgiveness or indulgence with this; I simply want to say that the volume of my angst is the leftover mountain of my affection. Perhaps you can take heart in this.
Love letter # 84
Talking to you now, after all this time, I am reminded of what it is I miss: emotional availability, compassion, unabashed honesty and the withholding of judgement. These are the qualities that still typify you and I. Even now – long after the storms that broke us up.
Perhaps it is an easy thing to be calm with distance. Only natural that some of the original warmth should return after the angst of parting has subsided. Yet I cannot help but feel it is a deeper and more lovely thing than a simple cooling of the heels. For I can see now that the little wars we fought were over nothing. That it was never our love that failed. It was something more mundane. Details. Vanity. Fear.
And now – much later than I should have – I can say without hesitation or caveat that I love you more than anyone I ever knew. More than myself. That you recognised me – and allowed me to see you.
I say this not as a matter of regret or apology, or even as a way back to you – for we both know that would be nostalgia gone mad – but as a long overdue honouring of the years we shared. It is clear now that we really did have something. A thing now patently lacking. And we both know how we lost it.
Yet I do not dwell upon this. I think instead of the beautiful, slender thread that still crosses the oceans between us. Of the door always open. Hearth still aglow. Love undiminished.
Even at the end of everything, this light I shall see by.
Love letter # 277
From the distance of now it is safe to say that I would have offered you everything in my power had you wished it. I would have run with you to wherever you wanted to be – however far away from everything else that was.
I am almost certain that this would have been a grand folly – but at least I would have known the thrill of it. For though I am here now – and there is much to like about this fact – I still cannot help the feeling that in my truest heart I most long to be wherever you are.
Love letter # 223
Thank God for the advent of the sexy barista. Makes my routine sparkle.
When I know you’re on I cannot wait to get out and come down to your café, to sit in my usual spot and let you pull the shots. Even in your work clothes I can see how your beautiful body moves with grace and precision – and I try to watch you without being seen.
How I love it when you wander over to my table, when you linger just that little bit longer. It’s then that I can detect something deep and wonderful in your eyes. Something more than a practised smile. A strength. A vulnerability. Maybe even a yearning.
Of course I cannot be sure – but I would sure love to find out.