Most of all I miss your rapt face.
I can't wait to see you again.
I would write poetry, but it would be false because the feeling is too naked to be clothed in chosen words.
I miss your frowning glance.
And as for your moments when you melt, those I cherish.
And I miss your nipple rings, your body, your intoxicating smell, and your taste (in any order you care to choose), :-P
And your glad 'babble', as you call it. I could listen to it all day.
I'm sorry you've had a shit day. The telephone is so wrong. I wanted to tell you all those things, but just as walls have ears, in the country there is a saying: hedges and fields have eyes and ears. And it just felt wrong. We are too far away for speech.
If you wish it, I'll see you again soon. I will never pressure you unless you desire it.
I want to hold you, to kiss, to make love, to fuck. I want to be torn to shreds by you. I want to spend an age lying eye to eye and brow to brow - a splendiferous circular challenge of two like minds.
And there are practicalities to consider of course... how banal! Well, I'll roll up my sleeves and get on with it. But still, but still, but still... Can't wait to see you again.
Kisses everywhere, D xxxxxxxxx
p.s. a poem from maybe 97 - seems vaguely appropriate. Dx
ReplyDeleteThe flowers of my life have become
More rare in my finding of them,
As at the cease of his younger growth,
A man gathers infrequent specks of fire,
From spreading stonefields where did once
Grow dreamy hordes of careless flower;
With a face subdued and resolute both,
Stiff-fingered pins them in his lapel,
Solitary forget-me-not, and harebell.