Tag: Love letters
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Love letter # 527 Because I had no other way, I arranged coincidences. It was not difficult. Our routines made it easy for me to be at the same cafeteria, to catch the same train. We would talk and I would wonder. Could I make you notice me? Did you see what I saw? Then…
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Love letter # 596 I went through the things recently, the assorted goods and chattel of living, and I threw most of it out. Dusty leftovers of erstwhile passions, the surplus machines of modern domesticity, the souvenir trinkets of memories already smudged. Then, when I surveyed the surviving pile, I knew without counting that it…
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Love letter # 20230218 Tomorrow I leave you. Yet, you will barely notice my absence; for I only walked in your dappled light, another visitor, passing through you like the breeze, my flight shaped, scented, by your sentinel presence. In the sculpture of my motion, the evidence of you, perturbations on the surface of a…
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Love letter # 782 Of course there are things I do not know about you, and vice versa. Indeed, there may well be things we do not realise about ourselves. So many unknowns…and yet…the attraction of bodies in space. I have the feeling we will come together in spite of our combined caution; not by…
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Love letter # 534 An old song – one you introduced me to – and an idea. You breathe through the lyrics, and I feel again what I used to feel. The swoon. Your intoxicant promise. In a click I am searching you. What was last thing we said, typed? The slow, email coda of…
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Love letter # 524 There is a tension in my jaw. It could be the fear of speaking up. So often we are punished for truth. Yet, if I reside in silence, what will it reveal? I can only guess how you might interpret it. For a state of not knowing is where I currently…
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Love letter # 922 You/not you. I/not I. Outlines of a sketchily remembered tryst. Me on the dancefloor. You on the tennis court. A few bright days. Even fewer nights. Your eyes searching me. Was I the one? Were you? No…as we soon discovered. A spasm of lust – lips and hips and hands –…
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A surprising NYE café encounter
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” the voice said, speaking without judgement. Yes, she was. The waitress. Young and perfect. Full in flower. In elastic, fertile prime. I was hoping not to get caught, tracing her feline grace as she brought the Cold Drip to my table. As she inclined slightly towards me, and the scent of…
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Love letter # 587 In your presence I know who I am; not because you wield magic but because you give me permission. You create space with your acceptance, of yourself and, by extension, of me. Yours is the love that allows, and in that gracious latitude I stretch out, to touch you, and be…
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Love letter # 510 Time and separation make little difference. You are burnt into me. What looks like perfect skin to others is the mask of your presence – the burnished shell of your departure. I have been shaped by the hand of our union. I still keep the secrets you whispered, walk as though…
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