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I can see the outline of you when I close my eyes.
You are black on white, a sharp edge not wavering.
I cannot see the direction of your stare. I know you are looking at me.

I feel the softness of your touch in the morning. I feel it through the day.
Your lips are red velvet brushing me, convincing me. I will fall before your whispers always.

I came to myself in a dream last night and said your name.
The ringing from that sound lingered there even as I woke. I carried it with me awhile, smiling.

My darling one,

I've always been good at love, good at loving. I don't love everyone, though I would consider that a worthy goal, or even all that many, but when you're in, you're in. My heart will hold you and hold you forever. Even when I have learned, through disappointment and pain, that I have loved wrongly, my love doesn't disappear. If you've had it, you will always have it. Even if it sleeps, it never dies. Not that I would stay for a broken love, a failed love, but I withdraw nothing but my day-to-day obsession. The rest remains.

This is not a thing for you to think on today. It is only a promise of future comfort in an uncertain world. If we fail, love will not fail. It is yours to keep.
But I do not expect to fail.

When I look out on the world and collect up all the thoughts that make me smile, so many of them are in you. You are a brilliant mind, thoughtful and deep-seeing. You are a beautiful face and perfect eyes and mouth and all that is awake in you shines out. There is truth in your face. And compassion. Empathy. There is warmth and comfort there. You carry it with you and you give it away. It's why the homeless seek you out, looking for donations. You have already given; perhaps you will give more. But you are not too sainted to make me feel unworthy. You save your gifts for your closest circle if they are soft with you and let your mind rest.

And you are a man -- tall and strong-browed with a deep voice that rumbles your chest. You are a caretaker, a provider, a solid force standing against the discomforts of everyday life. You do not presume to rule the land, but keep your kingdom small, and rule it with an open heart. You are gentle and reasonable. Still there is passion -- a fire you have shut away and banked for many years. I am the breath of wind to make you roar. I will hear you roar.

I will watch you settle into this and I will shake you and we will expand to fill the space. We will break walls and bleed into all the edges of the world. We do this for ourselves, to be worthy of each other. We will tower over the world and keep it safe. We will hold it close and set it free. We will command it, absolutely, to do as it pleases. And it will please us because we have fought so hard for it. And it will fight us because the fight is life.

All of this on the horizon and we are mirrors for each other with questions in our eyes. Each to the other we say, "Are you sure you want this?" There is nothing to lose but this, all this promise. I will draw it out. There is no question of wanting. There is only the shape we make together. We will strive to answer all the questions until there is nothing left but truth and beauty and love. We will bask in everything -- in sun and sorrow and breakfast and sleep. We will see and do and stretch like cats, relentlessly content, perfectly restless. Every day we will have the thought: this is right, this is good, this is all there is.

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