[I meant this letter to be one or two sentences, but couldn't
find the few perfect phrases to send you swooning into my arms,
not that I found it either in what follows...]

Can we talk more sometime when neither of us need to sleep?

I wish you saw things the way like I see them now...

stronger than 'I wish'; feel that something crucial is depending on
you seeing things like that.



Like I said at Someday Cafe all those weeks ago, I'm no good 
at getting over you; can't count on ever being over you, if 
you don't ever see these things then I have to somehow figure
out how to get around you, to have relationships despite what 
I haven't stopped feeling for you.


One thing that's different in me now (that I hope is one of those things
that can make all the difference) is that I don't see myself as demanding
of you as some past relationships have been.  I've learned to be content
just being able to make contact on a lot of levels with you. I've learned 
that no one is going to be able to demand all your attention or time or 
affection, and come to peace with that, for what it's worth.  One and one 
are two but can be something more as well.

--

I wanted so desperately to touch you tonight, in a seductive vein, to
nuzzle under your jaw and neck, to brush my lips across your shoulder,
your breast, to feel my teeth catch gently on a nipple through the warm
thin t-shirt, to kiss you and softly draw your lower lip between my lips,
to have my hand relearn the curves and swells of your outline... but most
importantly, to feel you responding to me, your body communicating with
mine on a level so basic our conscious minds can't hope to understand. 
What I realized late last week is that the communication we share that way
is absolutely unique in my life. I've never been able to achieve that
level of touch with anyone else. The Joy of Sex likens touching a lover
to be sometimes like the playing of an instrument, and explains that
that's why the best touch often happens when one partner is allowed to
touch and the other partner is allowed to just *be* touched, rather than 
a mishmash of mutuality.  There is an art to being touched, of 
cultivating the responses that lead everything to be better and better, 
just like there is an art to making a fine instrument, one that responds 
easily to the musicians touch of hands or mouth, but has its own unique 
character in tone and quality. 

And not just that, me touching you: when you touch me, I feel things more
intensely than I ever have before; I feel sexy, I feel turned on in
amazing ways.  I learn for the first time where the phrase 'turned on'
comes from: you wake up parts of mind, from primitive reptilian brain
parts to sophisticated intellectual parts, that usually lie dormant and
unused.  My nerves sing out beautifully, suddenly aware of everything 
around them.


And that's one of the reasons I think that life would be better with each 
other than without each other.  Touch like that isn't just touch, it 
stands for something much more fundamental.  (should I say you put the 'fun' 
and 'da mental' back into romance?  sorry, it's very late, like 4am.)

--

We harmonize on so many levels, mentally and physically and karma-ly  
that losing you will bring a piece of me with it.

--

I reread this and hope that my words will touch you, and want you to also 
believe this: just like I don't think that touch is touch is touch, but 
rather it speaks of something more, I don't think my ability to touch you 
through writing ("you write too well") is coincidental... I think for 
whatever reason I have a better view of something that you're seeing only 
the shadow of now.

This letter has been about as long and rambling as they get.  I feel 
lucky to maintain any kind of coherence, given the fatiguedness of my 
brain and the crisscross of emotion running in my heart and head.  (even 
though I know it's where the situation lies right now, hearing you say 
what you're not feeling in us has that effect on me.)


Rosetta, run away with me.

I say that now because I have nothing to lose except everything.

I say that now because these emotions are as real to love as love will 
ever be.

shoulder,

ever kirk