To E.F.

Dear E. F.,

This feeling is still in adolescence, and it might be birthed in my own, but I keep it close as I would my own child and it grows larger and stronger each time I see you - every smile, laugh, shared feeling and thought aggrandizes it to the point that I have to draft this out because I'm not sure I could relate its full message in person. Your heart, mind, goals, priorities...everything. I love you, I think, or whatever this feeling is called before it ripens.
I know this site is filled half-full with my own letters to other people, but this is not impulsive like all those were. This has had time to grow stronger, a taste that, cooking through with these constant flames (like those of Purgatory, perhaps - strong but harming only impurity) has come to season too slowly for my own patience.
I'm not afraid to say it; that's not why I write this. If I was ashamed of it, I wouldn't lay it out here where all eyes can see. I don't fear ridicule, because I know any applied to me would be unwarranted. Right now the only thing I surely fear is the answer I receive from that voice I've known for years, but whose worth only recently have come to appreciate fully.
That said, I ask if you don't feel the same stirrings when you think of me that you don't (as I know a caring soul as yours will) do as I have done and foster illusions in your , but I ask that if you've seen this before for me that you tell me.
I would, of course, love to see you soon.

'Love,
E.K.

To Noelle

Dear Noelle,
The two of us could be much more,
It occurs to me in thinking o'er
Our heartfelt times and honest words
That strike the very telling chords
Of something intent in the murk
Where softly stirring somethings lurk,
Mention, whisper, and, I find,
Will not go unheard by my mind.
We fear the treason doubtings find
Ingrained in saying my goodbye
To her and letting "you and I"
Blossom, bloom, so let it lie,
Let it wither, let it die.
Many tears will slip my eye,
But I'll consent to never try.
If you wish, want, and will,
From but a tap I'll ask my fill,
Let constraints control its drip,
And watch it slowly trickle, slip
Into a newly broken crack
In my heart, encased in black.
Love?,
He who would be Dylek

To Unspecified

Before I begin, I will point out that you may and very well should find this letter out of line. At first, I had no intention of writing to you, but I cannot seem to get you off of my mind. It is like an addiction, and your words are my drug. The thoughts of you in my mind grow stronger every time we speak, and even more so when we cannot.

With this, it is here that I speak to you of my true feelings.

Ever since we first exchanged words, I have been completely entranced by your demeanor. The ways you perceive life's sweet mysteries with such fearlessness inspires me to do the same. You're never afraid to say what you think to be true, and are not fazed by the possibility that you're wrong (or right, for that matter). And although there's a slim chance that I'll obtain the same fluency with words and thoughts as you do, your persistence and drive are always a source of encouragement.

Now, it seems that although we have only known each other a few weeks, my feelings have blossomed into something insuppressible, something that makes my insides ache with want, something (dare I call it Love?) that makes me think of nothing but us together, against everything that stands in our way. And even though there are quite a few things that rest between us, I cannot help but daydream about crushing those walls and crusading into the seamless day, just the two of us. Together.

Okay, so I know that sounds cliché; however, it seems that my mind cannot wrap itself around the proper words (never mind putting them into coherent sentences). I'm beginning to come to the realization that for you, there are no words.

There truly is nothing that I can say that would possibly encompass everything that I feel and think in regards to you.

And I must say, it takes someone pretty powerful to do that.

Anyways, let me continue.

Something to look forward to.

Ever since I first spoke with you, although it wasn't long ago as I said before, this is what you've given me. Every time I open my eyes I hope that maybe, just maybe you'll be there to intercept my gaze. And when you are? Well, then I never really know what to do with myself. I wish that it would happen, and when it does, it's like I didn't think it ever would. You catch me by surprise, every time.

And I think I'm in love with you.

I'm not really sure. I don't think I've ever been in love before. How am I supposed to know what it feels like? Ah well. I don't have a word for this feeling yet, so I guess for now that's what it'll be called. Love.

Although… I'm not sure how I could be in love with you, even if I am. How close are you supposed to be with a person before you know if you're in love with them? You seem nice enough, and we seem to share similar tastes. Maybe I'm jumping ahead of myself. I tend to do that a lot.

You're one of the only people in the world I can truly talk about anything with. And of those people, you're the only one I've felt this strongly about. (May I also mention that upon speaking to you about these various topics, you receive them with superior poise and never leave me with nothing for advice?) For this, I am most grateful.

I hope I do not scare you away with my words, but rather, it is my wish that you will accept them for what they are: the truth.

It would be too much to ask that you feel the same way, for I know that you chart your own course and I would hate for you to do something that went against what you felt was right. My only wish is to get to know you even better than I do now and maybe someday…

Well, I'll leave that for later.

I shall end for now and in looking forward to speaking to you again, I give to you all of my love, in hopes you will receive it.

To he that will never know

To he that will never know,

You know me. We’ve met. We’re friends, even, and I’m sure we’ll see each other many many times in the future. I wouldn’t want it any other way, except…

I knew you before then. Sort of. We’ve been in some of the same theater productions, and then, that one time we were councilors together for the theater camp. It was so much fun, you, our two other friends, and myself, all hanging out doing something we all enjoyed.

You have to understand that I don’t just fall for guys. Love at first sight is a romantic idea, and I wish (oh how I wish) that might happen to me someday, but it hasn’t happened yet. I have to get to know them first, and even then, my affections are slow to grow… cautious even. Is my new friend already taken? Although one can still love another even if they are taken (that is the basis behind many a tragic love story) but I am afraid that, well, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to get my hopes up over someone just to find out that they do not feel the same way and will probably never feel the same way, therefore leaving me behind in the dust with my own muddy thoughts. I’m afraid that even bringing up the subject of a relationship would ruin everything… not that I could probably ever find the courage to bring up such a topic… so I wait. I watch and wait.

Unlike the boys at my school, you were always the gentleman, always polite, and always so congenial. For someone like me, who goes by personality, you were an A+ in my book. You fit just about everything I could think of in my idea of the perfect guy. You were easy to talk to, and we councilors did have so much fun that summer. And then, as that camp’s end began to loom, I started to feel something… something more than before. You always could bring a smile to my face when we talked, but I started to smile just at the thought of you. Seeing you made might heart flutter, just the slightest bit. And suddenly, it became harder for me to talk to you. I started to get nervous about talking with you. How could I speak to you when at any moment I might say something that would reveal my thoughts and feelings to the world? Should I just tell you? No, I didn’t (and still don’t) have the courage to tell you my feelings I had at that time.

I also had a dream about you one night. You and I were so close, but in the end, so very far apart. I dreaded the meaning of the dream, for I had the feeling it was trying to tell me something important. And I didn’t want to hear what it had to say. Not knowing what to do, I turned to a friend, and asked what I should do, and in one simple reply, I learned something about you that I had never known before. Apparently, I did not know you as well as I had thought.

Looking back on it, I feel stupid for having not seen it before. Not to judge, but it was rather obvious, had I been looking. Love can sometimes leave us blind, I guess. Simply by being yourself, we were never meant to be together, and that little flutter of hope inside me fell crashing to the ground.

I think I did love you. My first ever real crush. Now I think I know why they call it a ‘crush.’ Because though it’s sweet like the orange soda, it’s easily shattered like the glass containing it. But I cannot hold a grudge. Would I really want you to be anyone but who you are? No. We’re still friends. And you will never know that I once entertained the hope that it might be otherwise. And that is fine. And though a my heart still aches a little every time I see you now, I smile for you. I put on my mask. I’d rather you stayed ignorant of this fact and stayed happy than find out and be saddened by my pain. (Or am I more afraid that you wouldn’t be sorry at all?) You still mean enough to me that I wouldn’t want to cause you pain. You’re my friend. And that’s how it will stay.

I realize this story is rather pitiful when compared to just about any other love story, and this isn’t so much a love letter as a sad story about a girl who fell for the wrong guy, but I still can’t help but imagine what would have happened had I told you… would you have changed? Probably not, but I can dream…

~ By one who is lost in the darkness of confusion

To Unspecified

I don’t know your name.


Not for any romantic reason, either. It’s just that I have a terrible memory for names, and besides, the music was so loud that I could barely hear you telling me what it was.


So forgive me for not addressing this letter to you personally. I really don’t think you can take offence, seeing as you’re not actually going to read it. And if you did read it, your English (while still being about fifty times better than my Italian) would probably not allow you to understand much of it anyway.


Besides, I don’t expect you can remember my name, either.


I could really have saved a lot of time by writing Dear X, or Dear Pretty Riviera Spectre, but never mind.


I suspect that if this letter gets posted, it will look even colder and paler next to the intensity and passion in some of the others than it does here all by itself on my screen. But I can’t help that.


It also occurs to me that none of this is really a big deal anyway. And not worth writing poems over. But I can’t help overreacting to things either. And the poem is here – although I hardly remember writing it now, and I’m not really sure where on earth it came from – so I feel I might as well let it go where it wants to go. Which, for some reason, seems to be here.


So here you go:

Hang me up like a star
tripping from the spiderweb sky, and
humdrum swaying from side to side.

It’s not that I don’t like you,
or that your eyes and your skin
aren’t soft enough, or look
as though they can’t bear touching.

Float me out to sea –
just hear me out –
float me over tonguing flashfire froth
and black malady,
and don’t let me hunger
the rock-slime up again
or ever come back at all.

It’s not that I don’t like you –
if I could just find
a way to say it –
it’s not anything,
but I can never seem to help
getting absorbed
into the dark.

To A

Dear A,

You can’t get closer than this, I thought, stirring my coffee and smiling. Without looking up, I knew you’d be sitting there with that look in your brown eyes. Serious, concerned, intense, frightened. You were just a boy, just a nervous little boy. And I didn’t care. It doesn’t matter who we are, or when we are, or where. All that matters is doing the right thing with the time that is given to us. We joked around, and I remember envying myself. And all the girls you’d meet in the future, and the girls of your past. To have a part of your life, to be close to you, that’s all that’s important. The necessity for anything more is stupid. Why would you want more than just one instant of perfection? If everything is perfect always, how could you relax? You’d always live in fear of a collapse. Of the end of things. Take each minute as it comes, take risks, forget to care. That’s what you taught me. And it’s a lesson I intend to remember. Memory’s a funny thing. Six weeks forward from that day, six weeks forward from realising that I, you, we were on the brink of something, and I still am there, still stuck in Starbucks with a cup of coffee and a poem on a piece of folded paper that you’d just handed to me. It’s a beautiful poem. And it’s one I intend to keep. Maybe when I’m brave enough I’ll stick it up onto my wall, make a collection of all the precious things people have given me; which reminds me, I haven’t worn the necklace my first boyfriend bought me since the day we split up. Funny how that sort of thing happens. But that’s a shame, because it is a beautiful necklace. Who cares that the beads are made of glass? It’s real, artisan-crafted glass, from Venice. But even that isn’t why it’s precious. I like trophies, because I like to remember people by the things they gave, which is why part of me finds it annoying that the second and third boys I went out with never gave me anything tangible to keep. But then again, it’s hardly surprising. They didn’t really affect my life in the same way. Alec did because he was the First Boyfriend, and you did because well, you were The First, in the full, overblown dramatic sense of that phrase. And I’m glad it was you; I wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were so close to being perfect that it almost hurt every time I was with you. [censor'd?]And I know if you ever read this (which you won’t) you’d find the innuendo in that and laugh. [end censor]I mostly remember you laughing. You were always laughing about something or other. You were playful, childish, wonderful. In all my life I have never known anyone like you, and yet... you are nothing special! How does that work? I don’t understand how you can be someone so utterly perfect, utterly amazing, and yet be pretty **** ordinary. I remember your intensity though. You are a healer. You made me feel so much safer with you than with anyone. That’s why I knew we were right together. And even though it was only for a very, very short space of time, you made sense. We made sense. The ‘us’ that we had was important to me. I don’t care that it lasted hardly any time at all. You will come back to me, as a friend, and I look forward to it. And maybe one day, if (as people have said and I am ignoring) you come back to me as a lover, it will be wonderful. Life is cyclical. It has a funny way of tying up loose ends. Maybe we’ll turn out to be a loose end that needs tying up. Maybe we could spend the rest of our lives together. Maybe, somewhere out there in a strange loop of time, we will. I won’t hold my breath, because you’ve taught me how to live, and I am **** well going to. I look forward to the rest of my life.

Much Love,
C x

To that that one special guy

To that one special guy-

I still love you. Lord knows I've tried to deny it, I tell myself almost every morning that it's all over. That I look at you and don't feel anything anymore. But then we joke and you look at me with that smile, and I know that I'm right back where I started. My heart pounds when I get close to you, when I "accidentally" brush up against you. One thing I've learned through the last few years that I've known you and loved you is that I'm a very jealous person. Sometimes I think you treat me different than the other girls, and it makes me feel special. But then I see you being the same with some other girl that you are with me, and I resent her. I've always wanted you just for me, to be my boy. It's so hard for me because I know you'll never feel the same way about me that I do about you. I never want to lose our friendship, it's become one of the most treasured things in my life. It's just sometimes I still wish that you'd look at me the way I look at you. That you'd think of me of more than just another friend, that I'd have some sort of special place in your heart. I know you've probably seen me do some pretty stupid stuff, but that's what happens when you start running out of ways to get closer to someone you're already incredibly close to. I just think that if I could get a little closer you'd see me in a different light. You'd see me as someone you could trust and someone you could give all your love to. You're without a doubt the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. You're funny and talented and you have a great moral character. You know when to be silly and when to be serious, you really know who you are and what you believe in. That's something I've always admired about you, you really seem to know who you are, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. Then I told you how I felt, through a letter, like now. Your reaction was surprising at best. You didn't even acknowledge it, but you were visibly uncomfortable. You never said a word, one way or the other. Then it just kind of disappeared, and I was grateful. We could still be friends and I’d have nothing to worry about. It's been killing me since Freshman year to see you with all these other girls and wonder if there was something there. Then you started dating her. I must admit, I didn't see that one coming. Of all the girls I had been watching over the last two years I never suspected her. This was after you knew how I felt about you. It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had feelings for you at the same time you were developing feelings for her. And then you broke up, and I secretly celebrated. My heart, which refused to give up despite my will, was back in the game. And so it went, through this year. I still wished, I still made up things to see, like you flirting with me, starting to feel for me. I decided to set my sights on other guys, but I never felt the way I do about you, I knew I couldn’t deny it anymore. I still liked you... a lot. But I decided to bury it all and just go on the way we have been, only an idiot would ruin such a great friendship. Now my sights have been unconsciously set on another girl. Do you like her? Does she like you? I don’t know, but to me it sure seems that way. I wish I didn’t care, I wish I could just be your friend and be happy with it. But something inside me keeps telling me that I’m meant for you. I know it sounds crazy, it does to me too, but it’s the way I feel. And I know that it will never go away. You’ll probably never read this, because I don’t want ruin what we already have. Heck, I don’t even know how much you care about me, even as a friend. I don’t know what I am to you, and sometimes I’m not sure what you are to me. Maybe it’s best to just leave it alone and let myself think that you’re just a good friend. Maybe now I’ll be able to move on. I hope. But probably not.