Yummy

Hello my dear yummy,

Today is Wednesday and it’s 9:30am. I’m reading the BBC online, after a morning of fondling your privates.

You left for work an hour ago.
I wanted to tell you that I'm having a great time despite my out of place sad looks and long stares.

Waking up next to you has been more than I could ever ask for.
Just knowing that you're there and I could turn over and lean on you, put my arms around you, smell you and just lick you, gives me more happiness than I could ever verbally express.

It makes me believe in love and that maybe it is that easy, two people meet, they like each other and that's it.
But in our case, it has been both; easy and not that easy. It makes me sad that I'll have to leave here without you then wait a couple of months to see you again.

We've been over the random circumstances of our meeting and how if I just turned the corner or if you didn’t look up, we never would have met. We never would've had the opportunity to enjoy the intense mental and physical connection that we share.
It's that intensity that makes me a little weird and spacey. I keep fighting the urge to just fall into you and believe in this completely.

Thinking about going home and leaving you brings me back to earth.
It's just way for me to get grounded in some sort of reality for this relationship. Thank you for being so candid about your feelings for me and I want to let you know I feel the same. I wish I could just say it out loud like you do.

OK that's all I had to say.
I'll see you at 3:30

Sunday for Billie

From this window, I spy a woman in white heels, a team of little leaguers playing ball and a candy store I’ve been curious about. As my co- workers dance to the latest in world beat music, I tell my rude customers there no public restrooms here.

The way I usually start these letters is with a hi, how are you, followed by a list of questions that center around the state of your affairs.

I end the questioning with a hope you’re doing well (which is sincere) and break into a list of current happenings in my life.
I rant about work/school in such a way that one would think I despised them, when really the opposite was true.
I love my work and academia with all it’s flaws I just wonder how much of my identity it really is anymore. I’ve been having trouble connecting and feeling disconnected at the same time. Do you know what I mean?

Anyhow, I explain how difficult/easy everything is and at the end throw in some random information that will seem important to me but you and your efficiency will find it unnecessary.

Therefore, I have chosen to spare you. I’ll spare you the delicate details of my new life in the land of ice and snow, as you once called it. I’ll spare you the blow-by-blow descriptions of my sister high school like work turmoil.
I’ll keep the perils of her work embarrassment (Oh my god, he tried to sleep with you!) and drama (WTF! He’s sleeping with her!) to myself.

I will not bore you with the personal tales of a young woman who wanders the streets looking meaning, warmth and a little bit of perfection in a place where the most important things are frozen all year round.

Perfect is what you are willing to put up with and the real word for it is compromise. This young woman fears that with all her imperfections, she has made herself unsuitable for anyone or anything. A poisonous orchid almost.
Perfect is lying in bed on a rainy day. Perfect is getting to the last page of a novel and realizing the ride isn’t over. Perfect is sitting on the subway at 2am, writing a long love letter to no one in particular. Then mailing it.

Don’t think too deeply about what I’ve written. This is all stuff you already know.