Everyday Stranger

A Letter to My Lover

Another morning, another evening in which you walked through my dreams like you own them.

And perhaps you do.

And after I have woken up, put my clothes on, and walked downstairs to start the water for the coffee, your arms are still around me and your hands are still in my hair. The things you said to me, during the night, still ring in my head and heart. While I put the kettle on, your arms go around my breasts and your face in my neck. And I wonder, sometimes, if I turn around that you will be there, behind me. I could put my back to the counter and face you again. To see you, touch you, and kiss you.

But whenever I turn around, you're not there.

Sometimes I daydream that I will be in a businesss meeting and you will open the door, come up to me, and grab me, holding me close. You have a look in your eyes more fervent than the brightest lights. In front of everyone in the room, you come up to me and take my hand, leading me away. That's all you have to do, no words need to be spoken. We would walk out, just walk away from the drudge of our jobs, the drudge of our lives, the drudge of knowing that we are supposed to be together but can't be.

So much of my life today I owe to you. Do you remember the first time we made love? It was in that hotel room, in that little European town. We must have known it was coming, we must have felt the inevitability of being inside of me. We went from kissing inside the door, to exploring each others' bodies, to rolling around on the bed, skin hot as fire and wine-drunk dizzy with passion. Suddenly we were on the floor, unable to let go of each other long enough to even remove our underwear. With one tiny movement, you suddenly slipped inside the leg of my little-boy shorts and continued to slide all the way inside of me in one smooth motion. The electric shock of feeling you completely of me was like lightning inside of my stomach. It was an instant orgasm for me, the first orgasm I had ever had via penetration in my life.

The next morning, after having slept curled into your side and unable to be away from you, we took our clothes off and took our time to touch. I carry the image of you above me, hard muscles and dark, deep, intense look in your blue eyes, furry chest, you buried deep inside me and unable to let me go, like a gem I use whenever I need to orgasm the most. We were buried in a mound of pillows, sweat glistening and running from one body to the others, the individuality of it getting mixed up in the transition of all of our parts trying to be so close to each other, to be in each other. That morning you gave me several more orgasms, and it began the period of my life where you woke me up, taught me how to live and how to love.

This letter is a thank you. The seasons spent with you taught me more about myself than I had ever thought possible. Despite a lifetime of secrets and lies, I learned how to tell you the truth about anything and everything. And I learned that you wanted to hear it. Sometimes it was hard-it's not easy to always tell someone the truth, even at risk of hurting their feelings. But it was so important to me to do so, to tell you everything, to let you IN, that once I started telling you everything in my heart, head, and hands I never looked back.

Thank you for always letting me eat off your plate in restaurants. For knowing how I take my coffee. Thank you for always worrying about my safety and happiness. For making where I came from and who I am the single most interesting thing in the world to you.

Thank you for touching me, holding me, making love to me, fucking me. And for doing it whenever we wanted. Thank you for giving me the best years of my life, the stuff that most people only dream about but that I got to have. Thank you for the engraved silver ring you gave me, which never comes off the finger on my right hand.

Thank you for telling me all the secrets you had, for dusting out the cobwebs in your soul and taking a chance. Thank you for going away with me to new places and locations, to be able to drink in foreign cities and wile away the hours we were not in bed sightseeing. Thank you for putting your hand in the small of my back as we crossed the street. For making sure that there was always champagne, chilling, and a bubble bath nearby. For the love letters you wrote me. And for your face lighting up every time you saw me, every time I came into the room.

Thank you for being the love of my life, my greatest passion, and my dearest friend. I miss you every day. And to be honest, I would give asolutely anything to have you back.

Sometimes, when my fantasies about having you show back up get to be too much, I have to put my head down and take deep breaths, because the ache I have from missing you is impossible to swallow over. The grief that we are not in each other's daily lives too great. When that feeling passes, I am able to just smile a bit and be glad that I have a love like you, a moment in time that is enough to keep me going for the rest of my life.

I will never regret Us.

I will always love you.

Always.

Love,
-H.

Posted by Everydaystranger at October 4, 2003 10:17 AM | TrackBack