On Friday, you reminded me of a poem you wrote about our first night, a poem I love. I can’t quite believe I haven’t mentioned how much I enjoy that poem. It was written just a few days shy of a year ago. Before the deer appeared.

The word ‘shy’ made me stop for a moment just now. I was so very shy with you, so self-conscious, even though I hadn’t felt so attracted to someone in a dozen years. I was shy for a long time with you, anxious I was somehow going to mess everything up. I desperately wanted to keep seeing you. I felt bad that I wasn’t quite at ease enough to comfortably role-play when you wanted; I wanted to do lots of things with you that I was too shy to attempt. I was hoping I would have more time to get comfortable, but I wouldn’t have hardly any time, it turns out.

Along with that particular poem that you wrote, you included some journaling about your attraction and your anger, describing yourself as a Knight, my most noble consort, riding one thousand eight hundred horses/horsepower to me.

We were almost about to ‘share a secret smile’ in some special place, underneath the night sky.

God, I love you so much. My darling.

Friday I read your new poem, and recognizing these details instantly flooded my body and my mind with an indescribable wave of pleasure. Yet there was the section about ‘our home’ (I liked ‘choreplay’, teehee) that sounded more like you were talking about her, because of ‘our’. I had such a lovely time helping you give the dogs a nice bath that one day, but you and I don’t have a house together.

It’s so very confusing. Is it for me, or her, or both? What if he just enjoys inflaming me with such jealousy and bewilderment? The thought of the phrase ‘sharing a secret smile’ possibly belonging to her now is like a knife in me.

Then there was the lovely Desert Rose, which you’ve posted before, and I thought it was for me. Roses are a theme. And the timing of my seeing the posts and your subsequent removal of them, along with the timing of my posts, led me to believe, etc etc.

I saw the other assortment of pictures of you (a favorite Cure song of many) and other things, as well, in another lookout point. I immediately noticed the Iron Maiden shirt. Wasn’t it an Iron Maiden shirt you were wearing in the first profile photo of you I ever saw? The first time ever I saw your face? I also noticed that there was a solitary feeling about everything in that photo group. It felt to me like you were saying you were alone. My barest guesses. Darling, can we write to each other somewhere by ourselves, where no one else in particular is reading us? Of course, I would rather do that in person, and touch your warm skin with mine. But I’ll take what I can get.

And now today you say there are no cats in attendance anymore? What of Sia? Please give my regards to the dogs. Personally, I am down to what I am referring to as 2.5 cats. My ex now has one of them, the tuxedo cat, his favorite. Now I have Bossy-Marie and Randall, plus poor old Georgie, who is semi-feral and is only visible to me for about an hour every day.

Meanwhile, the spring air and the sight of the Kermit-green new leaves…they’ve been slowly gathering like a mist in the branches of bare trees, and that cool spring air brings so many things to my mind. And the sight of dandelions and violets in green grass. The feeling of the cool night air. And always, always, the stars above us in the sky, and the moon. Wherever and whenever she appears.

All I know is I love you and want you so much. Even though…even though everything.

I almost wore out my tape of Nothing Like The Sun in college. It was great for working on paintings and other projects.

Please come to me, when and if you can, you savage.




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