A love letter of lost love:
I know you love my writing but it’s easy to hide behind words that sound beautiful and it’s easy to draw meaning from words where meaning wasn’t meant. What I’m trying to say is… today I am simply going to say what I mean and if it happens to sound beautiful, then so be it.
I know. though, that nothing I write will ever be as beautiful as you. I could use the most sophisticated, glamorous, superfluous words that exist… No possible combination of human sounds could ever be as glorious as the sound your silhouette makes when I close my eyes. No poem will ever be as perfect as your lips, nor the darkest tale reflect even a fraction of the depth of your eyes and of your soul.
Your voice has a ring to it, and it calls me all the time. Grace is the sound you make when you talk. You are only gentle and guiding. Regal, you are, gorgeous.
I know I am good with my hands; I know you are good with my heart. I know there is dust in my lungs and sometimes I lose my mind trying to fight out of the fog.
So I will always bury myself into your chest, and lose myself between your every breath and you’ll be the only one to find me. I fear that if anyone else should find me first they would try and uproot me from where I’ve planted myself between your ribs. Don’t let me go. Do not let them know I am safe with you here. Leave only a breath of a fingerprint on the atmosphere.
You are safe. You are splendid. You are like nothing else I have ever wanted.
I was always afraid I would never fall in love. It’s not the kind of thing you can explain properly if you’ve never felt it. Actually … I’m not sure if it’s explainable even after it’s been felt.
See, falling in love is perhaps an experience or moment shaped simply by everyone’s own interpretation of what it’s meant to be. We’re thousands of years into existence and we’re still writing about it. Love. It is massive. It is immeasurable. It is infinite. So it begs to be said that when you say you love me… I still wonder where I’m going to find space to put it all because I am small… I am so small, my darling, and you love so big.
I’ll make the next part quick, but it felt like a whirlpool. Maybe that’s why I dream of water sometimes – there was so much all of not enough everywhere you and I couldn’t swim quick enough to come up for air before swallowing water and there’s always a lot of coughing and spluttering and gasping after that… We are breathing together now, but back then…
I tried to stay away for a while, or at least until… the moment they told me I couldn’t have you, you were all I wanted; the moment they told me you couldn’t hold me, you were all I needed close; the moment they told me I had to rise above you, was the moment I fell in love with you. I’ve fallen for you so many times I’ve forgotten how it feels to stand on my own two feet.
And I know now what they mean when they say, you have to be cruel to be kind. Love is kind, but it also hurts like a bitch. And it leaves burns and it bleeds and there are scars and gravel-filled knees and broken bones and perhaps the greater the injury, the greater the depth of love because no one falls that hard and gets up without a scratch.
And counting everything in our wake – not a moment spared, I would not have had it any other way. I love you. I love you every bump and scratch and scab. I love you every plaster cast and brain scan. I love you the messy and weak. I love you healthy. I love you strong and wild and free. I love you mending and bandaged and laughing. You are everything that no one else could ever be for me.
You have given meaning to thousands of songs I’d always heard but never understood. And I want no other. Only you. I do. I do. I do.
I love you.