A Prelude for Love
The first installation of a 3-part series
I wanna write you a love letter.
Not some time consuming monologue in a cookie cutter tv show.
A real love letter.
A love letter that tells you about all the small things I love about you, about the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, the way your teeth are uneven, the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching
A love letter that tells me that no matter what happens in the future, at this point in time, this single moment pulled out of the basket of eternity, this moment was one that I was truly in love with you
A letter that tells you that you aren’t the half that completes me or the sun to my moon or the ocean to my cracked dry legs or some other juxtaposed metaphor that somehow has caused society to measure love by the length in differences and the width in opposites
A letter that tells you that you were the other whole fraction, that you were the Phobos to my Demos, that you were the Atlantic to my Pacific, the line on the same coordinates pointing in the same way
A letter that tells you that when you leave, when you look back, when you resist the urge to turn around but make that same oddyesusstic mistake, that you won’t miss me.
A letter that tells me it’s time to close this envelope once more and hide it away
Deep in a hatbox full of kindergarten handprints and baby teeth.
About the Creator
Killing him slowly
There’s an intruder in my house again. He stumbles through the door, wet carrier bags in hand. He’s bought me offerings. I show my appreciation, letting him caress my beautiful body. He wants to touch me. I rub myself against his legs. He sighs, dropping the bags. He can’t resist touching me. Running his hand slowly down my spine, I arch my back towards his caress, let out a low purr. It’s what we both need.
By N J Delmasabout 12 hours ago in Horror
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