I am loathe to admit that despite my gruff exterior that I am a kind hearted sap. I would even hesitantly admit to being a romantic, not in any traditional sense of the word mind you but I do fancy myself to be in possession of a romantic spirit. Unfortunately the great abiding faith I have that one day my affections will be returned has yet to happen and I am beginning to suspect that my faith in humanity will never be redeemed. More and more I am feeling the weight of the eternal winter I endure and wish, that just once I could experience a spring. I am aware of love in an almost theoretical sense of the word; everything I have gathered about that particular wellspring of human emotion comes from a deep and abiding love of literature. The problem with that is that real women don’t apparently respond well to the sort of romantic gestures that fictional women seem to. I wrote a rather wooden stodgy letter that expressed all the vulnerabilities my aged and tired heart could muster, and I had hoped that those dying passions would be enough to sway the affections of the one I desired. I made one rather large mistake, being that I thought my words would actually sway someone. Such hubris, and to make matters worse I deviated from script and felt terribly dejected for a few scant days.
Maybe one day someone will be able to appreciate my kindness, but it seems doubtful. I have heard every excuse a man could possibly hear and while I don’t want to throw in the towel I can’t help but think that life can only get worse. I believe, foolishly that love can redeem a person. I don’t know how I came to this conclusion but I intrinsically believe this with every fiber of my being. Love ideally can wash away all the grime and we can find the newness to the world that deserves to be seen. It’s such a fragile dream but one that seems increasingly less likely to happen. I can take some small comfort that despite my cynicism I am still able to produce whorey wooden thought glimpsed below.
My Dearest Madame ______,
I emphatically hate to think that when last I saw you the words I spoke brought tears to your ethereal eyes. Clearly I think that the fault rests on the tremendous amount of stress that both of us have been suffering under, and while that might not be sufficient to appease the harm I might have caused I wish that my words didn’t flow so unmindfully from my lips.
I feel my darling, as if I am going to crack. I can feel the great weight of Atlas resting upon my lonely shoulders and I know that it will be only a matter of time before my knees buckle under such a burden. I yearn to be able to hold such an encumbrance but I know my character and unfortunately I am all too familiar with the great failings of my character. I wish I could speak unguarded but the thought of leaving my self vulnerable is a thought that terrifies me, but I shall try my best and fears be damned.
This weight I speak of had started with a little glance, a delicate wondrous glance that made me think that this world could be more then just darkness. Right away I thought about romance, I thought about your honey dripped words and how I longed for a kiss from your luscious lips. I know I ought to have taken it slower but I just could not hide my joy in getting to know you. I am not sure what we have but to me it could be a beautiful thing if allowed to grow, but my dearest I fear the pain it could bring. My soul shudders and the volcanic mix of sensations I am encountering, I feel in my heart a mix of sadness, terror, bliss, and a hope that dawn is about to rise on these long empty nights. I try my darling to keep in mind that whatever I am feeling is transient and here for today. I know it could be gone by the morrow; what ever it is goes so fast.
I wish I had the courage to say things in person but I am paralyzed by an abhorrent thought and I suspect that any bold proclamations on my part would be greeted by a distressful indifference. Perhaps my lack of forthright fullness stems from the crippling thought that I will always be alone, certainly my life has not been filled with much joy but I would literally cry knowing what joy I do have would cease if I dared to speak my heart. What time we have shared has been ever so brief, and maybe it is greed on my part but I want more. I want to know you, I want to cradle you in my arms as the burning light of spring is borne and washes away the perpetual darkness of winter. I want to plant fervid kisses across your body. I desire greatly your touch.
I am not certain what the dawn will bring, but I have a feint hope and it does little good holding on to it without ever allowing it the chance to be realized. If I am to never gaze upon you again, I would accept it with a great sadness, but I would accept it. Please excuse my inability to say these things to your person, I fear that I should have said these things sooner, but I am unfortunately a terrible coward.
Yours
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