Tag Archives: Love letters

Love letter # 232

Loving you has been really good for my weight – because whenever I see you I am sick with nerves and simply cannot eat. Your impact is so utterly physical; and all of my fine assertions and splendid determinations are simply melted on sight. It’s as though I have no defence whatever. Something about you shoots me right through.

Partly I’d like to run away – to sidestep this debilitating desire – but then when you are in my presence I am drawn to you so powerfully that all I can think of is your beauty and how much I would like to wrap you in my arms.

Tonight I will sleep alone once more but yearn for you to be next to me. In the morning I will crash into wakefulness with your name as my very first thought.

This, I realise, is the most primitive longing – the hard wired, hormonal hunger for touch and that mad delusion we are wont to call love. And much as I want you, I also want to be free of this stomach churning, nerve shredding, sanity destroying want.

Perhaps your kiss would dissolve it all – or maybe your absence. I cannot tell. I have surrendered that capacity to the overwhelming fever that strikes me when you smile.

I am hoping that perhaps you will help me steer a path out of this – put me out of my misery or dive into this heady sea and be with me.

Is this the craziest letter you have ever received? I hope so – because then you will know that whatever else happens in your world there is a fool nearby with a bright light burning just for you.

Love letter # 870

After today I love you even more. It’s not that you’re suddenly better looking or more desirable. Rather, it’s that you have allowed me to be absolutely honest. And you have returned the favour.

Even now you know what’s driving me – sometimes eating me, scaring me, crushing me – you still have room for me. More than room. Genuine warmth. Kinship. I feel I can be me around you and not be punished for it.

But better still – you have shown me you – and I am deeply honoured and thankful for this. For you are more beautiful than I dared imagine and I am the lucky one.

Love letter # 348

I’m sorry – but I’m calling it now rather than later. I can no longer pretend. I have played my cards. Declared my love and had it turned down. There is nowhere else for me to go. But away.

I understand that it is my weakness, not a fault in you. I am solely the author of these mad cravings and you, in a way, are their victim.

Yet still I cannot bear it. I know that when I’m with you I will want you all the more – and that is an untenable situation. What am I to be? The pathetic little muppet that begs for your affection? Or worse, the guy who can’t keep his hands to himself? OMG – when will he get over it?

Well I don’t want it to get to that – so I’m jumping ship now. Because you cannot pursue someone who will not be caught. And pushing and probing is useless. They either like you or they don’t.

And you don’t. And you won’t. Ever.

Perhaps if I did not love you so it would not matter. But I do – and it does. Far too much for ordinary comfort. For pretending. Fake smiles.

I accept that this will inconvenience you, perhaps even upset you a little – and I am sorry for that – but I know deep in the pit of my stomach that this is the only way. Since you will not be my love, I cannot pretend. I did try – but in the end your beauty did undo me.

I thank you for your playful mind and tuned in soul, for your kindness and your time. I thank you for reminding me that love exists because of imperfection, not in spite of it.

You are a wonderful woman. It has been my honour to know you. No wonder I want you. But I will not chase a lost cause. Been there, done that. Pointless. Not to mention degrading. It is not a spectacle I would wish to put you through. Far better that I have my ridiculous drama in private, where no one else can get hurt.

I did not get to hold you in my arms and say I love you – or have you say it back – but I can imagine it now and the thought of it makes me smile from ear to ear. This remains my dream. Yet I know it will not happen. And knowing that, it would be foolish and downright disrespectful to hang on in the shadows of stubborn hope, only to feed on morsels.

Once again – humble apologies … but it needs to be this way. I hope you can at least understand this – or if not, forgive a silly man his passionate distemper.

Love letter # 244

It is the light that makes the night seem darker – the black that makes the bright seem wondrous. These two are dancers. They move as one. I know this because I love you. And because I have this crazy feeling, I can see clearly that you don’t.

I could be sad about this – and sometimes I am – or I could be silent – which until now I have been. But I have this insistent flower inside me and it opens up whenever you are near. And it fills every corner of my body and colours all of my various imaginings with a radiant warmth and an almost oceanic compassion. As though I could love the whole world. Like a star is bursting in my heart. Pouring forth its beautiful light.

How could I ever keep such a thing locked away? Why would I not give this flower its share of the spring? For even if it airs for just a second, in a few foolish words, it will have brought more love into the world. I feel that maybe something of it might ripple out, far beyond you and me, and be of some comfort – perhaps even some joy – for those whose names I do not know but whose love I am presently alive with. I want to say it – type it – because one day, long after the supernova, the light will arrive across immeasurable distance and bathe some cold and barren rock in glory. And your incredible beauty – and the love it has ignited in me – will not have burned for nothing.

Love letter # 365

From all the prophets of the world I never learned a thing. Neither have the sages brought me a scrap of joy. All their words and supposedly stupendous insights have done nought but leave me dry. Their wisdom is the grandest folly. The self-perpetuating denial of the apparently spiritual. The fear of death dressed up as eternity. Only in you have I known the wonder of the light. Only in the tender, uncomplicated honesty of your smile. And only by surrender am I truly set free.

For you are not the promise of forever. Nor the fiction of salvation. You are just the one who stands beside me. Yet for this small and simple fact I am profoundly grateful. And we are skin on skin together. Warmth on warmth. For no greater purpose than the sheer joy of it. Because we choose it – and because it makes our whole world more beautiful. If there is a greater truth than this I have yet to hear of it.

Love letter # 298

There was a time when tiny little treasures made the big world bearable. A time when dark hours filled with light. It was the time that I spent with you.

Our lovers’ pact may well have been made in error – but what beautiful, wishful fools we were. Perhaps we even sinned against the very idea of together – but oh what glorious damnation we embraced. And what broken down angels we became.

For there were nights – so dark – when I slept in particular splendour. They were the nights when you stayed. The days when I woke next to you.

When you said that you loved me – when you smiled at me that way – no possible harm could come. This was when all the loose ends were either tied or of no consequence. The time when we ruled the world. When we were we.

Love letter # 454

If the roles were reversed I would most likely be nowhere near as gracious or as strong as you – for I know what it is to bleed and to long for that which will never return. I remember all too well how it feels to stand beside the one you love and have them not love you back; and although I will not apologise for no longer loving you as you wish, I will say sorry for my part in the slow disintegration of us.

We both know how easy it is to say that tired, trite line – let’s just be friends – and how awful it is to be that friend. To that end I promise you this: my quiet disappearance. I shall not inflict my egotistical guilt on you in the form of so-called friendship – not if it makes things worse for you. Not if it is as hard for you as it once was for me.

Perhaps, after all, lovers are best housed in memory – free from further taint or temptation. Where fresh wounds cannot be so easily inflicted. I will retire into this space if you so wish it. Keep my distance. Keep my mouth shut. You only have to say.

Yet if you can bear the cooler fractions of what you it is desire, these I will gladly give. That we may honour the beauty that remains and salvage from our inevitable human frailty the nobler part of love’s much tarnished glory.

I cannot offer you everything but what I have to give I shall give fully – not as duty or self-seeking recompense but as treasure newly found. If you will take these tiny jewels, I will dig them from the earth to lay them at your feet.

Or I will retreat and leave you in peace.

Love letter # 264

The way you looked last night – in the evening light – in that lovely dress – it forced me to confess. I think about you all the time and I wonder if we will ever, ever be.

I am wracked with reservation – for I have heard your stories of bad men and broken hope – but this does not mean I have not dreamed what I have dreamed. That I have not imagined your kiss. Not heard you sigh in my quiet fantasy.

And yet I know the rough and unforgiving terrain of man and woman as well as any. I have seen and felt its jarring bumps – and yes, I am more than a little afraid. But should it be your wish I will risk a further bruise for you, if only to have another chance at joy.

Love letter # 242

In the end, I will leave with exactly what I came with; so I would like to spend some of that journey with you. It would make things brighter. There would be skin. And weakness. And splendour. And all other catechisms of purpose. Yet perhaps there is something quieter, something beneath the mighty clamour, which we may find one day, which is the true beauty we both seek.