Tag Archives: Love letters

Love letter # 503

There is much I have forgotten, details yielded to time and other fogs. But the body holds traces, relives the sensation. The wonder of your arrival, like the beating of butterfly wings. The rush of falling, as though desire, coded in flutters, remains, with the distortions of ordinary grind edited out and the purity of hunger tight in my gut. It is the sweetness of a gravity both abstracted and real. Fantasy strung out in the fibre of nerves. In these moments, mess and noise dissolve and the unobstructed current flows brilliant. I catch my breath, and in that liminal space, I love you like the dawn of everything.

Love letter # 425

All I know is that when you sent me that txt last night my heart rate doubled in an instant. My blood surged. A king tide of warmth washed through me.

I have tried to keep these feelings at bay – aware of how easily they could unseat me, how entirely vulnerable they could render me – but at your every whisper they flare. Not like pain but joy. Promise. The sweet delirium of falling.

Yet I am terrified. It is, of course, the age old fear of breaking. Once more.

So I write you this in order that you understand that I am not unaffected. That this matters. That you are very definitely something. That it’s you I dream of.

For though it is mixed with the accumulated history of my dread, it is without doubt the brightest, most wonderful light to have shone upon me in years.

I know that the next few weeks and months will ultimately tell the tale of this – that desire, proclivity and circumstance will weigh in with their powerful influence – but tonight I shiver. Uncertain. Knowing that with the merest push I will stumble and that, upon standing, I shall find myself in love with you.

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 # 371

It’s the playful glint in your eye. The smirking raised brow. The smile that seems to know pleasurable secrets. These and other things.

Like the velvet of your skin. Its downy feathers. Those plush and fruitful lips of yours. Even the way you walk. To me these are like treasures. Better still, the ecstasy of falling.

Whenever it’s the two of us – speaking in that magic tongue we invented – lighting fires as and when – I come to in Arcadia. For there is nothing so simple and clean as this – nothing more real than the realm of your kiss.