You have no idea how I am feeling exquisitely pathetic right now, as I am about to, or try to, for that matter, put into words all that we have been living now for this whole time. It is indeed a great quest for me to verbalize this sort of feeling one prefers to feel when one is together with someone else.
And then, I cannot even imagine what you will think of me or this letter, for I foresee that you will certainly mock me for my loathing and ridiculous phrases.
Don’t expect me to go through things like your amazing hair, all the way curled and fair, sunlight-shining. You already know that I fancy a lot smelling it, and touching it, and rolling it into tiny pig-tailed shapes. You also do realize, of course, that there is no point in worshipping your eyes, which mesmerize me with their innocent glance over me, as they sparkle like some sort of jewel taken from deep down inside the heart of the ocean.
And why on earth should I even mention your tiny little round-ended nose? Perhaps because we love doing that eskimo-kissing quite often, as if we were little children playing about, free of any concerns that the world might want to put on our fragile backs.
Oh, no, I would never dare talk about your naturally glossy lips. You know perfectly well what they do to me, I cannot even feel myself, my earthly body drops by its own as my soul rises and practically flies away, only being bond to you and your fleshy, tasty lips, that search for my own as in search for a frivolous passion one cannot understand if one isn’t connected to true love, which is what we have, knowing nothing of it and, at the same time, getting lost in time because of it.
What? Cherish your neck? No, I refuse to evaluate your complete anatomy, for it does not make any sense at all, it is rather nonsense, actually. If you want me to talk about it, why not mention as well the whole of your limbs, or your tummy, or your breasts, or whatever you would like to hear me talk about? Why don’t I just tell you that your grace leaves me powerless, why don’t I just tell you that you’re absolutely divine? Even touching you in such a carnal, vicious and sinful way has its own purity. Because we, you and me both, are in this together.
You seem so untouchable and yet you are quite the proximity one usually has to look for years and years of devotion and dedication to life, that hideous scoundrel that will teach us nothing softly, always recurring to the harshest of ways. But there is no point in blaming life for anything at all, right now, because I have you, and as long as this keeps that way, I shall remain very happy and feel pretty much glorified by the heavens for letting me see what really there is in you, in your heart, which I have known for so many time now. There is no way I could ever lose your sense of humour, your joy, your loyalty, your grace, your passion, your caring, your love.
In other words, there is only one thing left to say, but please, don’t let this be something that could annoy you, or make you look at me as some pathetic being, because this is the truth: I love you.
Exactly the way you are.
And then, I cannot even imagine what you will think of me or this letter, for I foresee that you will certainly mock me for my loathing and ridiculous phrases.
Don’t expect me to go through things like your amazing hair, all the way curled and fair, sunlight-shining. You already know that I fancy a lot smelling it, and touching it, and rolling it into tiny pig-tailed shapes. You also do realize, of course, that there is no point in worshipping your eyes, which mesmerize me with their innocent glance over me, as they sparkle like some sort of jewel taken from deep down inside the heart of the ocean.
And why on earth should I even mention your tiny little round-ended nose? Perhaps because we love doing that eskimo-kissing quite often, as if we were little children playing about, free of any concerns that the world might want to put on our fragile backs.
Oh, no, I would never dare talk about your naturally glossy lips. You know perfectly well what they do to me, I cannot even feel myself, my earthly body drops by its own as my soul rises and practically flies away, only being bond to you and your fleshy, tasty lips, that search for my own as in search for a frivolous passion one cannot understand if one isn’t connected to true love, which is what we have, knowing nothing of it and, at the same time, getting lost in time because of it.
What? Cherish your neck? No, I refuse to evaluate your complete anatomy, for it does not make any sense at all, it is rather nonsense, actually. If you want me to talk about it, why not mention as well the whole of your limbs, or your tummy, or your breasts, or whatever you would like to hear me talk about? Why don’t I just tell you that your grace leaves me powerless, why don’t I just tell you that you’re absolutely divine? Even touching you in such a carnal, vicious and sinful way has its own purity. Because we, you and me both, are in this together.
You seem so untouchable and yet you are quite the proximity one usually has to look for years and years of devotion and dedication to life, that hideous scoundrel that will teach us nothing softly, always recurring to the harshest of ways. But there is no point in blaming life for anything at all, right now, because I have you, and as long as this keeps that way, I shall remain very happy and feel pretty much glorified by the heavens for letting me see what really there is in you, in your heart, which I have known for so many time now. There is no way I could ever lose your sense of humour, your joy, your loyalty, your grace, your passion, your caring, your love.
In other words, there is only one thing left to say, but please, don’t let this be something that could annoy you, or make you look at me as some pathetic being, because this is the truth: I love you.
Exactly the way you are.
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