Siertes
Well-known member
So every so often I feel compelled to write about love, something I have little experience in a relationship sense. Most of these were inspired by real people, but I couldn't tell a single one that. One even asked me once if a certain thing was inspired by reality and I couldn't even tell her that it was HER. Now she's dating a nice guy...
ANYWAY, here they are! No titles, just separated by the dashes.
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With your creativity you drew the line that formed a smile on my face. You framed a picture of happiness about me, in a light I had never seen before. I want to bathe in your artistry that has drawn my attention as you've drawn me anew, to have a capture of my heart displayed in the galleries of your countless visual cultivations. Just let me be near you, to be remade in a form that compliments the world you see, so that I might fit in.
---
I long to meet the girl of my dreams but am forced to settle for the girl in my dreams. She lulls me into a false sense of happiness with her dream-dulled touches and kisses without emotion. That look in her eye, as if she truly cares about me, kills my heart time and again. The limited vocabulary my mind has gifted her are only the words I want to hear. I don't want her but I do. I hate her but I don't. I want her to leave and never come back, yet stay at the same time. Transcend the veil and let me meet the real you, dream girl. I want warmth, feeling and words unfiltered by expectation and fantasy. Find me and wake me up.
---
Before hearing those three words from you, those wonderful strings of letters imbued with such feeling, possibility, and hope, happiness for me had been akin to observing the moon's radiance through the filter of an overcast sky. I could just make out the nature of it and I wouldn't have hesitated to say that there was something bright and beautiful there, but the true nature of it that I now perceive is beyond what I thought imaginable.
What happened to that old self of mine who pined for this moment? Whatever became of him, trapped and lost in loneliness, I wish him well. I have become a stranger to myself, assaulted by chronic smiling and bouts of euphoria. In trying to document it all, I've discovered that most of what I feel has no words to accurately describe it, and I am perfectly fine with that realization.
It is a pleasure to meet you love, and it is as much a pleasure to meet myself in love.
---
I reminisce of the days when you would dance your fingertips through my hair, like the dainty feet of a fairy dancing merrily on a softly carpeted forest floor. The tinglings I felt then shudder my body anew, the magic of that moment transcending time and mere memory. My mind still desires to puzzle out how such simple actions from you could seize my heart so completely without effort.
Did a similar feeling envelop you as I traced the lines of your body, gently redrawing the shape of love as I knew it? Were the words inspired by your presence and purpose in my life powerful enough to survive the translation of feeling to voice and, hope willing, back to feeling within you? I claimed that peaceful yet radiant smile as evidence of a heart's delight, wondering if I had found myself blinded by my own heart's exuberant quaking.
Return me to the days of dancing and drawing with fingers.
---
That's enough for now. I've always wished (still wish) I could write something love inspired to someone directly without being such a coward and relegating them to musings about a faceless girl. Were all those feelings wasted? How many chances were missed?
Does anyone else write "letters to love" they never end up sending?
ANYWAY, here they are! No titles, just separated by the dashes.
---
With your creativity you drew the line that formed a smile on my face. You framed a picture of happiness about me, in a light I had never seen before. I want to bathe in your artistry that has drawn my attention as you've drawn me anew, to have a capture of my heart displayed in the galleries of your countless visual cultivations. Just let me be near you, to be remade in a form that compliments the world you see, so that I might fit in.
---
I long to meet the girl of my dreams but am forced to settle for the girl in my dreams. She lulls me into a false sense of happiness with her dream-dulled touches and kisses without emotion. That look in her eye, as if she truly cares about me, kills my heart time and again. The limited vocabulary my mind has gifted her are only the words I want to hear. I don't want her but I do. I hate her but I don't. I want her to leave and never come back, yet stay at the same time. Transcend the veil and let me meet the real you, dream girl. I want warmth, feeling and words unfiltered by expectation and fantasy. Find me and wake me up.
---
Before hearing those three words from you, those wonderful strings of letters imbued with such feeling, possibility, and hope, happiness for me had been akin to observing the moon's radiance through the filter of an overcast sky. I could just make out the nature of it and I wouldn't have hesitated to say that there was something bright and beautiful there, but the true nature of it that I now perceive is beyond what I thought imaginable.
What happened to that old self of mine who pined for this moment? Whatever became of him, trapped and lost in loneliness, I wish him well. I have become a stranger to myself, assaulted by chronic smiling and bouts of euphoria. In trying to document it all, I've discovered that most of what I feel has no words to accurately describe it, and I am perfectly fine with that realization.
It is a pleasure to meet you love, and it is as much a pleasure to meet myself in love.
---
I reminisce of the days when you would dance your fingertips through my hair, like the dainty feet of a fairy dancing merrily on a softly carpeted forest floor. The tinglings I felt then shudder my body anew, the magic of that moment transcending time and mere memory. My mind still desires to puzzle out how such simple actions from you could seize my heart so completely without effort.
Did a similar feeling envelop you as I traced the lines of your body, gently redrawing the shape of love as I knew it? Were the words inspired by your presence and purpose in my life powerful enough to survive the translation of feeling to voice and, hope willing, back to feeling within you? I claimed that peaceful yet radiant smile as evidence of a heart's delight, wondering if I had found myself blinded by my own heart's exuberant quaking.
Return me to the days of dancing and drawing with fingers.
---
That's enough for now. I've always wished (still wish) I could write something love inspired to someone directly without being such a coward and relegating them to musings about a faceless girl. Were all those feelings wasted? How many chances were missed?
Does anyone else write "letters to love" they never end up sending?