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 # 523
We’re both adults – we know how these things tend to go. So yes, it’s true, I am holding back.
Of course I wanted to hold you. Kiss you. Love you in every conceivable way. I saw the universe unfolding in the darkness of your eyes. I saw us dancing in five years time. Heard the music in my head. Felt the thunder in my blood. The fear that runs crazy in a heart held together by the knotted wires of will alone.
Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn here – but I think it’s same for you. We are both pilgrims walking the earth in the thrall of redemptive beauty. Broken angels patching up their wings. Bearers of light throwing shadows all around.
I guess I just wanted you to know that it’s okay. We don’t have to do this. I shall not judge you for the trepidations that belong to me. Your hesitation is mine. Our uncertainty unites us.
What If I loved you? What if I burned? What if you smiled in return?
Love letter # 463
I can see you’re in denial. Your closed eyes can’t hide the fire. For I have that flame in me. It’s the light by which I see.
Love letter # 419
Your beauty is such that it hurts. So golden. Unattainable. An almost perfect sheen. And mine is the rapture of the broken in awe. The swoon of the hesitant.
Beauty, often as not, seeks damage – and damage finds solace in beauty. We always want the opposite of what we have. Opposites attract, right? Like magnets. Electrons and protons.
Not this time though. We will simply orbit and wonder. Maybe wobble off course for a moment. A glitch in our separate journeys. Eyes across a crowd. A nearness so brief and splendid – the euphoria of a breath withheld.
Perhaps it is not necessary to collide – merely to brush. For the night to be lit for a blink. Not even for the length of a kiss. Just the spark of possibly. Like angels pricking splinters in our skin. Pearls of blood. Red as knowing.
And then you are gone. Your beauty recombined with the indistinct. My heart like the memory of flames. Embers like diamonds. The way you shone – and the lovely shadow that cooled me down.
Love letter # 297
Tonight your light is of such a wondrous quality that, in the fire of its glow, I would gladly yield to the greater darkness. Your song so lovely I could fold into the oceanic silence. Here your gifts are so overwhelming that I could give them all to the void. In this moment beside you all time could cease. For with our love we have purged the world of its sturm und drang. Of its distracting drama. Leaving only this. The infinitely small and endless sea of now.
Love letter # 286
It was to your song that I danced. It was for your dance that I played. Into your deserts I went thirsty. Into your night – so bright. Along your wild roads. To the beauty of your door. That I might be beside you. And you beside me. In harmony.
Love letter # 459
A song came on the radio today. Not one I hear that often – but one that still sings of our time together. While it played – and for a few minutes afterwards – I was in love with you all over again. All I could hear was your husky laugh. Taste your mouth. Feel what it felt like to be wanted by you.
Less romantic realities may have ground such wonders to predictable dust, yet my body still holds the sensations. My heart still sounds out your name. Not in deluded hope or obsessional fixation but in honour. For loving you was one of the most wonderfully intense and beautiful things I ever did.
I am not sure where you are tonight, or who you are with, but I am a fire in the arms of memory. Warmed. Glad to have once been so crazy.
I thank you once more for the blood you sent crashing through formerly ossified veins; because, having been broken over the back of you I am no longer afraid of anything. And I will die knowing what it was like to love as though nothing else mattered.
Which it doesn’t.
Love letter # 283
To this day I remain astonished at your choosing of me. Grateful for the shine in your smile. Amazed by your continued nearness. Whenever I stop to behold it, I am afloat on the sea of your beauty. Lifted up by the advent of your light. I swoon to your song and, in such musical company, I move to the rhythm of the vastness – and in that lovely cadence it feels as though I blend with you and will never, ever be alone. There is nothing I could give back to you that would even come close to emulating this extraordinary gift; the one you unveil with every feather of your touch.
Love letter # 335
It was through your beauty that I fell upon these things. On pleasant rambles unearthed. Dug from dark marrow and plucked into light. Always there – yet now known to language.
These twin axes – the poles around which my life has danced – I have no more words to deny them. Eternity and mortality.
All my great loves, my lofty vaults of thought, the very beholding of infinity I have credited myself with – all this wrapped in fragile, failing flesh. In poor eyes and creaking hips. In freezing bones and coughing fits. The song of forever in a moment of breath. A scratched up atom of the everlast.
For this is what I know when I am with you. When your beauty is too much for ordinary ideas.
The mortal eternal: this is I. All of forever and nothing at all.
It is to these mirrored gods I surrender – because as I yield to the mortal, so too I bow to the eternal. As I accept nothing, I shall have everything once more. It shall reside in my breath – and ring the bells when I see you. I shall be cleansed in the light that you bring – ready to be dirty again.
To such beauty I surrender. As I have to you, my love. As I have to you.
Love letter # 595
I woke up with my heart in pieces this morning – for in my dream I was by your side and you were like the angel I had always imagined. The girl who melted everything.
Yet you and I both know that in this more solid world such hazy visions do not withstand the force of human frailty. It is the irrefutable difference between these two poles – the hoped for and the actual – that broke me open. In the realm of sleep we loved each other; as though there were no lines between us. In the daylight we do not even speak.
Last night you said that you still loved me. In that sweet cloud I believed you. But of course, you never did. You simply tolerated me. Put up with a fool and his unwanted desires. Told whatever lies you felt were appropriate. For my part, I looked past all the evidence, blinded by hunger. By a weakness stronger than self-respect.
If you were the one who abused, I was the one who allowed it. Mine was the longing. The void. The loneliness. Yours was the air that rushed to fill the vacuum I created. You could have been more honest – much more so – but you were as beholden to your fears as I was to mine. Though I am not responsible for your appalling behaviour, I am 100% culpable in mine. I wanted that beautiful dream so much – that fantasy version of you – that in a way my folly engineered your Machiavellian response. Perhaps this is why my heart is breaking right now.
Or maybe because it took a dream for me to allow you the room to love me truly in return.