<\/p>\n
Dearest ________________,<\/span><\/p>\n A secret admirer. That’s what they say, isn’t it? I have been secretive, until <\/p>\n Do I love you when you are next to me? A little. But not as much as when we are But what else can one do when they love someone so much? No, there it is again. You have your tricks, I’m sure, of hiding this or that blemish or accentuating Yes, I want to make it happen. No longer content to be secret or only admiring, I want an unstoppable love with you. I want a love that can resist black holes I want you, _____________.<\/p>\n So write, so call, so contact me in any way. Don’t delay unless delaying will Respond to me, and I will respond to you. Until that charged moment, I remain,<\/p>\n Yours,<\/p>\n ____________<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[57,352],"tags":[68,353],"class_list":["post-2503","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cass","category-gsarchive","tag-cassander","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2503","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2503"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2503\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2769,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2503\/revisions\/2769"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2503"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2503"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2503"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nnow, and I suppose I do admire you, but that’s only when your back is turned.
\n30 minutes a day\u2014that’s how long I get to admire you, and then it’s back to the
\n23 \u00bd hours of wretched, seething love.<\/p>\n
\nseparated\u2014by traffic and daily planners and radio waves and the denizens of our
\nlives\u2014no, not as much as I love you when your only incarnation is in my mind,
\nyour smile demands mental replay and your body’s attitude and altitude insist
\non being remeasured and firmly memorized. The trap that catches my dreams…but
\nthere is no permanence to dreams. They leave no evidence, not like you really
\nwould. A strand of long, dark hair on the pillowcase, a fingerprint on the
\ncountertop, even a blown kiss would have more mass than a dream.<\/span><\/p>\n
\nThat word, love, used incorrectly. Not appropriate for my situation. It takes
\ntwo to love. Two people playing simultaneous roles as Lover & Beloved. Two
\npeople sharing space and air and radiating heat and intentions. Not us,
\nhowever. Instead of two, we have one and one. One of us is alone and hateful to
\nthe world for being so crowded, this city for being so wide and having so many
\nplaces to hide (I don’t even know where you live! Where are you right now? A
\ncoffee shop wrapped in a scarf and leaning as I’ve seen you do, intently over a
\npaperback? A friend’s apartment calling to her from the hallway? In your own
\nhome, privately clenching and releasing your own white toes?) And the other is
\naccompanied everywhere by a vanilla scent, long lashes, and refracted light.<\/p>\n
\nyour eyes, but I know that if it was all washed away or stripped what would
\nremain would be exceptionally fine, bright, and smooth. Have I hit upon it? The
\none dominant characteristic of yours that causes you to rule my thoughts? I
\nbelieve it is: I haven’t touched you, but I know you are smooth like a stone
\nfold of a Michelangelo statue, smooth like the lightly packed sand of an
\nAsiatic shore, smooth like the cheek of god. Maybe that’s what really tempted
\nme: the thought of touching something so finely crafted, so treacherously
\ninviting, something so close to perfect that it makes me shudder to even be
\naround you for fear that through some mishap I’ll mar or brand you. But I
\nwon’t. I have faith in that notion. I could never wear down the elemental
\nbeauty of your skin even with my raw lips and sawdust hands, not even with the
\nthousand caresses I hope to make possible.<\/p>\n
\nI am baring all. But it’s not something I can will into existence or bribe a
\ngod for\u2014I have to just hope that it’s possible that you would want the same
\nthing I want: an inescapable love. I want to find you in the morning’s rays, I
\nwant to watch your leg emerge from behind the shower curtain, I want you to sit
\non my knee at parties so that everyone knows<\/em>. I don’t want to waste time
\nwith flirting; I want to leap headfirst into a shared mesmerization, an
\nunflinching fascination between us two. I want to greedily hoard all of your
\nsecrets and wishes, I want to peel the skin off your back after you’ve been
\nsunburned, I want to touch your body in the places that push against the seams
\nand stretches fabric, I want to unclasp and untie and loosen everything that you
\nare until it can breathe and exist freely in my presence. I want to push my
\nface into your neck and sleep skin to skin.<\/p>\n
\nand nuclear war. I want a love that spans decades and becomes an iconic
\nphenomenon that is printed on T-shirts and coffee mugs. I want a love so
\npowerful that glass breaks around us as we walk, a romance so intense that
\nothers can’t even look directly at us without going blind. I want you and I to
\nfeel interminably enraptured, to be so fierce that no one will ever love again,
\nthat love will be outlawed because of its dangerous nature, that writers will
\nput down their pens and brushes will hit the floor as artists open their
\nhands\u2014because neither the poets nor the painters, neither the composers nor the
\nmoviemakers are compelled or able to convey what we are. I want loving you to
\nsustain me instead of bread and water, and I want loving you to kill me, to
\ncollapse my heart when I am older than old and the world has been laid to waste
\nby the pulsing shockwaves of our kisses.<\/p>\n
\nmake you even more passionate about our first encounter. I have not even folded
\nthis paper, and I am already impatient for your response, for your touches and
\nclenches and exhalations…<\/p>\n