and now i am going to share with you an intimate piece of writing which makes my cheeks flush and my brain melt.
do you know, when i am so empty, feeling as though i have nothing to contribute, i should make love. conjure it up inside like magic and share it and try to embody it and be it. so this is the way!
enough of my thought- here is the letter. never to be sent, and hopefully never to be read by its intended recipient. cathartic to write, and a journey to read, here it is. i wasn't sure whether to post it but i feel a sickly urge to share this. (with the 2 of you that there are :)) it is not a recent piece of writing, nor does it apply to my daily reality, but as far as what i can offer, this is it.
For all of my drunken confessions and attempts at a sober discussion, I don't think you have ever read the result of my pen touching paper; for all of those inadequate expressions, I apologize.
For all of my professions, I have nothing more to show you. Rejected time and again, beyond all the logic and reason I have, I must tell you again. I love you. You are the person, the magnet, that I am dragged back to. When I see you, the lightness in my body practically radiates out and I feel faint for a moment. Of course, after your continuous pushing and admonishments, I have learned to create my own gravity.
Regardless, I love you! I still love you. Wholly, sickly, sadly. You, I admire. You are a thing to behold. You must know how coyly beautiful you are... Do you know what you have done to me? Do you see the air all freeze when you get near? Do you purposely crack all the eggshells I walk on around you?
What I am left wondering is, regardless of any profession of passion, let alone affinity on my part, did you ever care? I can tell you every day, I could say it for every moment you have looked at me, for every second of our few embraces, that you have my heart. Did I ever, for even a fleeting moment, have yours beating in my fingertips? Did I squeeze the life out of it, or was it all just an omission?
Even so, whatever the truth, and however you may judge me yet again, your heart is a thing of wonder. It is disgusting how long this love's been drawn out, but I can't force it into a shallow grave. I'm sorry for that. I hope that I can let you go, stop chasing you while you wait for me to run out of breath.
The last thing I want to say is thank you. For always being quiet through my craziness, for always keeping your composure. For letting me be piece-meal honest with you. I am sorry again, for making nothing into something. For keeping my line in your ear open for all this time. You know, even after the end of this, I will still love you. I will love you for always, I will always be your friend. I will never cease to care for you. As for now though, infatuation abounds.
Love Always,
Samantha
____________________________________________
And now, a poem:
Friend
One day, you will forget
to remember me.
and our love, as it were
will cease to exist. there will be no nail in the coffin, there will be no coffin
Or perhaps, I will not look at your life
from the outside in
And I will forget You
And I will remain, the pain of a thorn in your side
When you consider
what beauty the world has lost
and all the love we could have made, and shared, basking in our spoils
Nay,
this will not be. I will not forget you. I will not let go
of all the maybe
I have no tears to shed, or words
I remain a voyeur, peering in, watching you move on
towards the day
when you cease to remember me
