Day of Letter Writing Challenge (crush)

by pronounced "ahhh" like a sigh

I started a secret blog. It’s where I’m putting most of my writing. It’s private and locked so nobody can find it. It’s better this way. I want to return to this every day of writing. Before too many eyes and opinions and strangers convinced me to hold myself a little quieter. In order to get myself back in the habit, on that blog, I’m doing the letter writing challenge that I abandoned on the 7th day exactly a year ago. The challenges became too personal so I quit. Now, I can put them in a place that no one can see.

I’m sharing this one because I like it. *shrugs* That’s the only reason. Please keep in mind, that these letters are not written like I would really write someone. They’re all poetic license everything. No slave to punctuation (like I ever am.).  Please don’t think I would really send this to my crush. I wouldn’t. It’s creepy. But this is what I would say in my head if it weren’t absolutely too much. That’s a long disclaimer. I just don’t want you to walk away thinking, “Damn. Bassey is a stalker.” I mean, I am. But not because of this. 😉

I’m stalling because I’m nervous. I think I’ll put it behind this cut. Oh! Also, this was a free write. I set a timer for 20 minutes and only used that time. They will all be free writes so I don’t talk myself out of it because I don’t have the time or I can’t think of anything to write.

Yeah. Still stalling. Here. You can blame Adele for this shit too.

Beloved:It is morning. The sun casts an uncharacteristic shadow at this hour. Unlike the brash and arrogance of summer, winter sun rises wearily. Cautiously. Without fanfare or prediction, she just appears. Like jilted lover, she refuses us warmth. Punishment for how we complain about her heat in summer, I suppose.
This is relevant somehow. Not sure if I’m sun or winter or summer or jilted lover. Perhaps neither. I wish you could tell me.

I think of you often. I wonder about your face the second light hits it. I wonder about your hands, what the fingers do when they grip tightly. Is there a difference between doorknob and caress? Coffee cup and anger? I imagine there is.
I think of you often, wonder about your voice. More often than I should probably admit– I cobble together the few sentences I’ve heard you speak. Stitch them carefully so I imagine what my name might sound like after it’s lived on your tongue.
If you saw me, would you  know? Would you fall quiet and walk away swiftly. I don’t blame you. I am  a thing you must to prepare for. I am a hurricane of a woman. I am flood. You will be swept away and drenched in me. I know. You know. So this is okay. You must be prepared for this. Gather rations and supplies. Come armed. Come ready. Come.

Are you aware of your beauty?  Not in the way that invites vanity, a mirror could tell you all you wish to know. I mean, are you aware of your beauty? The you that exists outside the glare of attention that surrounds you. There is something your eyes that suggest you don’t. That every camera flashing leaves you confused. Every single time, I imagine you hesitate and wonder, why? I’ll tell you. It’s because you glow.
That’s all I have. Just your glowing image in my mind. Perhaps, it’s best that we don’t speak. I want to hold this. Remember you this way. No knowledge of the hearts you’ve broken. The women you promised to call after. The way they waited and waited and waited longer than they are proud of. I don’t want to know you regular. Flesh and bone, pain inducing ex-lover. Someone’s horrible ex-boyfriend. I need your glowing image.
I have my own horrible and broken to contend with, I refuse to add you to the collection.

So I suppose, I must will myself to forget you. To dismiss the possibility of breath on cheek. Hand firm and gentle on small of back.  I refuse the draw of your face. Invite famine rather than imagine making a feast of your mouth.
Even, I, a glutton for creating my own heartbreak can not justify the way you haunt my dreams. The way you follow me into morning. The way mid-day conjures up thoughts of you. Night offers no solace from the oppressive always of you on my mind.
I must create a farewell song that exists only for me.
You, however, are welcome to find me. Prepare yourself for the flood.

Always love,
B.

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