Elegance, love letters, prose, Uncategorized

Dear Lover.

Why should we pretend we are not devastated? These lives, these loves, the lovers into friends, and friends, into lovers? Why should we pretend our passions do not drive us to distraction?

Because these pretensions are the foundations of the world.

What is the world, that we cannot take it, and have it and keep it? What is the world but someplace to paint our legends on? A canvas unforsaken like the dawn of ever after, it is ours but here we sit and ponder it, and do not live but die a thousand times a day for want of all that more that is no more than love and feeling home within a lovers arms, and on clean sheets, and driving ’round familiar streets, we long for safety. Oh, but then to look into your eyes and know that you are mine, and there’s some understanding, but I can hear you laughing, because is it as serious as all that?

It never is in the beginning, the sinning, but then is that even what it is? Should we pass judgment, or should we just live, and love, the way we want to? I dream a better dream, with you next to me.

We seek a comfort and a shelter from the world, in each others arms.
We seek a fortress, in the dark.

~ Teri Skultety