7 01 2014

I don’t even know how to start a letter to you.  Words fail to captivate my heart in such a way that I feel like I want to write to you, and finish the letter.

Um, so, Hi?

There it goes, the awkward beginning.  You, who knows more about me than I’ve ever shared before.  You know some of my past, and I’ve shared more of my thoughts with you than I ever thought I would.  And all I can offer you now is the most awkward beginning to a letter in the universe?  Hi?  That’s more like something you get out of a hit of the latest drug on the corner or the lid of the bottle, cold and unforgiving.  Hi?  The allure of too many pills, and snorts of powder until it enters the bloodstream to create a euphoria chain reaction in the mind, lifting you to outerspace. 

If I were to begin a letter to you, I would begin with triumphant displays of affection, call you the face of modern beauty, the shape of soft curvatures, and the smell of peace and contentment.  I would unashamedly declare my love for you, the steady roll of my heart to seek yours and the ever-present ache of my longing to be near you, to touch you.  To wrap you in my arms, these arms of affection, of deep friendship and affection.  These words of affirmation, that I would love to shout from the mountaintops, and sing into the hilltops, no matter where I am. 

If I were to continue a letter to you, I would continue with my words of love, but speak words of honesty laced with love.  Dripping with love.  Honesty that tries to be friendly, but it is so honest that it slowly hurts you.  It hurts me to say these words, thorns into your heart, but you know that they are true, and you know that if I did not love you, I would not say those words to you.  I would tell you of your flaws and your failures, but you would know that I would not betray you or stray from you…but you’d know that I want you to know that these ripples in your pond exist, so that you can look at me with the same honesty and to share mine with me. 

If I were to continue my letter to you, I would have written of the grand plans I have for us, the grand schemes I have in my hearts.  Random days where I would want to be sweet to you, to remind you of my love for you.  Scattered thoughts and dreams that I want to accomplish with you by my side.  You would smile, thinking some of them silly, some of them moving, and you’d let me do them all, because that’s just what love compels you to do.

If I were to end a letter to you, I would thank you.  I’ve always been so grateful that you’re here.  I’ve always been so honored that you’ve entered my life.  And when you left, I would still be thankful, although hurt, as I am now.  I am grateful that you forced me to see the other side of the coin.  You made me change some of my definition of love, you’ve taught me a little of what I am not, so that I can know more of what I am.  Regret would not be a word that I would use to describe us, and I don’t think that I know the appropriate word, perhaps it doesn’t exist. 

But I’m not writing a letter to you.  I don’t know that it would be healthy to do so.  I think I would mumble and fumble through the words, force them out of me.  All I would be able to truly write were questions, but I don’t think you want me to know the answers to those questions, and I’m not sure that I truly want to know them.  Since I’m not writing a letter to you, and you’re not the one reading it, I suppose these words are meaningless, and have no existence. 

So, um.  Hi?




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: