A Letter

“My faithful darling, my sweet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.” - James Joyce

Mister Blues,

(I read this and immediately thought of you)

I have read your letters of love
I am delighted with some of your words
Flattered
While some filled me with heat
And a yearning for you
A wish that you are here
Beside me

But you are with her.

In these papers,
These inks
I became yours
You, mine
In these letters
We shared words we never dare tell anyone

We bared souls
And without ever seeing
We bared bodies
A continent apart

Never had a man showed me an interest such as this
I am your wide-eyed girl
Blushing with your words
Tied up
You are a man
And I am a flower just blooming
A black rose, perhaps?

Now, Mr. Blues, I had been happy with you
You helped me find parts of me
Make new parts of me
Repair what is broken
And inspired my stories
My poetry

I hear your words when I ponder what life could be
I see you when I think of what love could be
And I hope and I regret some,
I desire and pull away

A wrong
Is right
A right
Is wrong

In our letters
You were my lover
You claimed me
While the deepest parts of me
Know that I can never claim you
Nor do I want to

But you made me go crazy
And spin!
And swim your blue oceans in my head
Skinny dip
And my fingers tread through snow
Yours after thirty
And my eyes blur with tears
Falling slowly

With joy?
With sorrow?
With thanks?
I do not know anymore

But what I know is this
In reality
I will only give myself
To someone who can give himself back
As a whole
Only mine
And I
Only his

And, Mr. Blues, you break my heart
You show me what I could -
What we could have had
Illusions
False hopes
Realism broke me

Even for a while
Perhaps I [i]was your mistress
Perhaps I was your whore
Perhaps I even liked it
Perhaps I even wanted some of it

But after days of pondering
I knew I needed something more
Maybe a plain gold ring just like yours
A promise unlike any other.

Is this goodbye, Mr. Blues?
I do not know.
But I will always remember,
Never regret.

With love,
                   Crimson
[/i]