Today is the dreaded day. Day of the lovers, of the silly quotes and proposals, explanations and desperate confessions. A day condemned to be lovely, isn’t it?
Having said that, I’m writing you this heart-felt letter so that you, wherever you may be, can promptly receive it, read it and touch me with your eyes, and how beautiful they are! I’ll stand here picturing you reciting it and shyly smiling, on your cheeks a slight blush rushed, one that suits you like no one else. Here it goes…
Firstly, I believe you know who you are, maybe you aren’t alone in being you but still that’s no reason for this letter not being entirely yours. Writing has never been something I’d naturally do to express my emotions but somehow it appears to be the only true way of stating what I may not forever be here to say, though I’d very much want to, don’t you ever think I wouldn’t, you know me, almost as good as I know you. And believe me when I say I know you too damn well. How could I not?
To be honest it all started this way, with me coming to know you by chance, ignorant of your existence up until a certain moment. There’s always that instant and funnily it is seemingly so easy to recall it, to identify the day in which my notion of you would transfigure into something more special. It’s a cognizance I unconsciously dived into and then a feeling of pure moody numbness. I felt it and approached you, was curious to discover the extent of your innate seductive grace. I fell for you and it didn’t take long, I absorbed you readily enough I must confess, so that my still protracted doubts swiftly vanished under your sincere shine.
We talked much more than I expected we would come to share, it happened someway between gently and suddenly, short of any warning signs, and such sensation of jolt was quite unsettling. I shook and longed for your answers and glimpses, waited for a considerable while, one that allowed a possible misapprehension to trade places with this new definite certainty. And here I realized how unlike any other woman you are.
I now see someone utterly altered whenever I stare at you, completeness struck you, beauty, your passionate heart found place inside mine and I’m currently decaying at your touch. I am barely mine so far, but could be only yours if you have the nerve to steal me from myself. I clearly wouldn’t resist, I crave being someone’s missing piece instead of mere fragments on my own. I love loving you and I bet you can tell it by now.
In the way I look at you, you’ll find a serene conception of belonging, in how I touch your shoulder you’ll sense this drive to embrace more sturdily and in my wholeness, you’ll recognize yourself reflected in who I became.
And so, in this Valentine’s Day, I write you aiming to reach someplace I already know exists within you, a site vacant enough to be missing something yet unnamed. Will you do this for me? Imprint in your core the meaning of this achy dire need for you as it squeezes me during your absence. Promise me only that you’ll have your heart whispering to mine what I need it to hear, that love will one day come and happen exactly how I dreamt it, real, with you being the upmost epitome of such trance.