hope already gone?

Where does one begin? I'm pretty sure this is a relatively new development in letter writing. Probably there isn't an established genre. Unlike the ubiquitous "Dear John" letter the "she-needs-to-get-her-shit-together-so-she's-moving-out-though-we'll-still-be-dating-but-I'm-insecure" letter has not enjoyed such widespread popularity.

I don't know where to begin. My emotions have been everywhere- angry, sad, self-pitying, resentful, jealous, apathetic, nihilistic, and probably a few others. Right now I feel hopeful. I hope we will become closer through this experience. I hope you can better learn yourself, so that you can show me how to love you better.

I like to think I know you well. I like to think of us as twins. Remember that? Sure, it was a long time ago - and compared to who we are now, it didn't mean that much...before we had touched or kissed or fought or cried together or eaten breakfast together.

It was easier to say big words like "twins" back them. Now when we say words there is a context. When I say I trust you, it means something. We are so much bigger now than our early words. I am glad we became real together.

I want us always to be real, so I write you letters ad naseum telling you how I feel. You're probably rolling your eyes. How could you not know how I feel after all my words to you? I guess this letter is about words. What is the context we have given our words?

Saying "I love you" doesn't even scratch the surface of my feelings for you. It's like trying to squeeze us into three small words. What does it mean? I love you. I love you. I love you. Sometimes I'm so in love with you, and that is all I say: I love you. I love you.

"I love you" means how your body feels curled up behind me in bed; or when you're in front of me, your back, it's skin and muscles, your spine and neck; how I love to plant my lips on your shoulders;

how complete I feel when we talk about art;

how spiritual when we talk about love...isn't that what they mean by God? Isn't that what they mean by art?

how new-born you can make me feel;

how saddened I am by the weight you carry in your mind;

how beautiful I am when I touch you;

how disappointed I am when you don't get shows;

God, how I fail with you; but how you give me hope, and a place to be;

how you console me when I want to quit;

how you keep me looking at myself;

my pride in the meaning of our life together;

how you want me to make friends and feel awkward that I don't;

how you stop me from being self-righteous sometimes (and I know it can't be easy);

because you make me feel better than I would;

the time I would have cheated, but didn't want to, how I still don't, because I know what's at stake, and I know how I feel you in my throat and gut;

how when we hold one another the world feels a little better;

how we saved each other from loneliness and more dying;

how we will again;

how amazing is your art that turns sorrow into solitude into beauty, into compassion;

how you are a poet with your hands, an artist with your eyes;

God, how I love your nakedness - your legs that walk, arms that hold;

how you shape the world, even naked, even vulnerable;

how our hands fit together, but not all the time;

how we didn't have to ask or talk or make a plan, but just knew;

as if we said, "Here. This way. This is where I belong."