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Please can I write you a love song?
My heart is bursting out of my chest at the very idea of the inkling of a sound of what might be your footsteps approaching.
Can I send you a letter?
My heart has stripped naked and plunged into the wintry ocean to swim to you.
Maybe we could talk?
I can’t wait to silently shiver and split open as we talk about the weather and dance around the issue.
Could I take your hand?
It feels so ancient and primordial in mine, like a fusing of future and past partings in the heat of the moment, hissing cracks of our skin, pummelling pulses…

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I have to thank you for your Christmas gift to me, the second installment of last years. In fact, so artfully given was this gift that I can almost believe I gave it to myself. I chose it, wrapped it and delivered it. Maybe it’s so.

I have to feel proud of myself for graduating to this next level of learning. The first flight I had training wings, you somehow held me by this cord between us, grasped me firmly by my hope and reeled my heart back in if it wandered too far into the unknown. This time there’s no net, there’s no someday, there’s no maybe to rely on.

The hardest part is I know that as much as I want to I can’t shut you out, I have to completely walk away from you while knowing you will always be in front of me, beckoning me on, but that I will never reach you because that’s not what this is about.

How can I be so sure that this is so without hearing from you? Am I creating in a void? Always. But this is a knowing from inside me, that whatever you say, whenever you say it, this is what has to be. Let go and trust. Let go of you and follow the longing.