By Starr
Date: 27 July 2000
Love Letter (RD)
Dear Adrian,
loveletters often start much the way that fairytales do. the key difference is that a fairytal eis written with a happy ending in mind, and a love letter is written in the hope that there migh tbe one. once upon a time, i met your gaze accross a crouded dance floor. i looked into your eyes, and though i did not then know it, saw the potential for something glowingly beautiful. accross that smokey distance, i sent out a peice of my soul to run down your body like rain; with tiny fingers of wet heat, that would leave traces of my hunger in thier wake. you spoke to me, and immages of infinate beauty filled my mind. they melted into me like honey, with a risidual sweeness that i longed to leave in your mouth. i wondered how my name tasted on your lips. if it lingered there in a fiery succulent way, that promised it's replacement with my flesh against you rown. if it pricked your tounge with forgotten spices, and dream laden richness. if it slid down your throat like nectar, only to fill your belly with desperate need. i knew these tender afflictions with more, and ever increasing intimacy, the longer i lingered near you. you have become so very dear to me in the time that has passed sine that night; moreso than i could have ever thought you might. i discovered, recently, in a moment of lucid, and strangely lustless, thought of you, that i am falling for you. i want to love you. not just peices of you, because within any given person, there exist some desireable bits. i want to, someday, fall in love with you, even the ghosts that haunt you, and the demons in your head. when the painful light of day fades, and the falling darkness makes the need for patient clarity all to clear; i curl around my fears and inhbitions, with the walls of my self made gilded prison drawing painfully close.i try to tell myself that what i am feeling will fade away by the morning, and i will once again be safely locke behind my walls of indifferece. then i close my eyes, hoping for peaceful sleep to come to me. instead i find myself dreaming of you. i see you almost nightly in this way. in a place where i can pull you close to me, and your hands roam my body like wolves. i touch you there, and wake alone, to find myself wishing you were with me. as things are, betwix youe shedule and mine, i am glad of the time there is. i delight in the little things, like discovering mail from you as i arrive at my desk; or hearing your voice drifting towards me accross the telephone line. these litele pleasures are what makes my days both wonderful, and dreadfully long.
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