filled with longing, i sit at my desk. remembering, i let my mind wander into my past,
into our past, and i replay the times we spent together. sometimes, i revise it a
little erase any tiny flaw or offence we caused each other and play it again with no 
awkward pauses or interruptions to the flow of passion. sometimes i linger over each 
second, treasuring the dull or uncomfortable moments as much as the pleasant. it is 
enough just to think about you. to let myself slip back into you. 

but i am here, at my desk, and you are now far away, in another city, in another province. 
you have taken your radical opinions, your intense ambitions, your softness and loud 
laughter to a new place, you have earned a spot in a masters program at a radical, intense 
university in a city of culture and distinction. i know you will be able to make waves 
there, to learn, to flourish, to excel. 

you will set yourself new goals, you will meet new challenges. you will astound and thrill 
and enamour new lovers and new mentors, you will be enthralled and wooed and introduced to 
new friends and new admirers.

and i want to make you come back to me. i want to keep you here with me. i almost wish i 
had not been able to encourage you and strengthen you so successfully, for now i am without 
your words and your embrace. but i know, and i want you to know that i would not really 
have it any other way. so i sit, filled with bittersweet longing here at my desk, and i 
write you a love letter.

my darling lover,

when i get sad, i daydream of you.

i am reluctant to report that lately i am thinking of you lots. not because the
thoughts are too explicit for me to admit, or too naughty, not because the
thoughts are too chaste, or only half realized or yet to be brought to
their fullness. not because they might seem too silly, too trite, and
vanilla in their banal everydayness. these thoughts are not thoughts of things i am
unwilling or unable to admit to.

i think delicious thoughts of you. i dream of your soft flesh, the feel of you, 
the touch of you. the darkness in your hair and eyes, the brown warmth of your skin, 
the feeling of you beside me, in my arms, lying next to me. they way you would stroll 
boldly from bedroom to bath, the way you stand and hold your arms and sway your hips. 
the sound of your voice, the sound of your breath, they way you sigh and laugh. 
all your little endearments, unique characteristics, every quirk, every mannerism. all 
your cerebral wit and humour, your verbose way of talking sometimes. thoughts remembering 
all of your secret inner self that i have glimpsed. thoughts of seeing you, talking to you, 
listening to you, watching you, reminiscing upon finding some object you left, some small 
shed piece of you. all your curves and strength, and your way of having knowledge of me. 
your ability to lust and love and adore me in a way that i can delight to luxuriate in 
since it is a reflection of my lust for you, you mirror and transmit and illuminate and 
return. a perfect desirable reaction to all of my love and affection that i cherish and 
want to show to you.

i am thinking about you lots, and it's because i'm feeling like that proverbial glass 
isn't half full. it's not that it is half empty, recently it appears to be totally fucking 
empty, or brimming full of really gross stuff or that the glass would be way better if i 
could smash it into a million billion sharp glittering shards and drink straight from 
the bottle.

i'm getting better at coping, and i feel happy, and i can feel delight, and i do 
feel comfortable and secure. but when i start to feel crummy, or just not
ok, the stretch of emotional road running between less than fine and totally
inconsolably and desperately hurt and overwhelmingly melancholy seems to
be a steep short drop. ok remains an even plateau, the heights of pleasure
are easily reached and often travelled. but when things start to get
tough, frustrating or annoying, or when someone hurts my feelings or
pisses me off  it takes only a small additional negative tug to reduce me
to tears.

i am in a short time returned to fine, and then it's a quick jaunt to
happiness and well being. but i keep getting challenged with shit from
life, and i'm hiding under my security sheet in the corner. for only a
short time, since my mind drifts easily and frequently into thoughts of
you.

i am myself both the damsel in distress and the knight in shining armour.
and as such, you are my complementary princess and dauntless hero.
i plan a journey into your heated embraces. i will flee to your rescue. 

i will see you soon. i love you

i reread it again and again, make it perfect. i send it. i begin to check train and bus 
schedules, i begin to plan a way to end the longing, if only for a weekend. i begin to try 
and conceal how much i miss you, to try and hide the way i hurt and yearn. ah, you know me 
too well for any of those games. all that there is for me to do now is visit. and yearn, 
and write and daydream. for though your education has taken you on a path away from me, our 
love is wonderful and our passions still hot. we will sit up late into the night giggling 
and telling secret tales of our new lovers to each other. we will spend a little more time 
together, before we part ways again. i will write to you, and you will write to me.