All/Nothing

Dear John,

I wish I knew better how to follow my heart rather than my head. I don't want to be with anyone else, but I'm scared it's just too much too quickly. You're too amazing, and I'm scared that I'll screw it all up.

Grow

Come to me, my darling. I am not afraid.

Please forgive my often solitary ways.

Its not that I don't want to

Its just that then, I'll never be the same

So come to me my darling.

And help me put aside my age

I can feel it falling

Through my hands

But I am not afraid.

Romeu e Julieta

Lay,

Se Romeu e Julieta fossem reais, estariam lá no céu, torcendo pelo amor da gente. Espero ter causado uma boa impressão à sua mãe, e que ela tenha gostado de mim. Você já sabe que EU TE AMO com todas as minhas forças, e não vou deixar isso morrer. E Matheus, aquele maldito Tebaldo/Páris, Chato, Pedra no meu sapato, eu prometo que nunca vou te deixar ter motivos pra me deixar e ficar com ele. Nem você quer isso. eu sei que você também gosta de mim. Beijo na Boca. Desse carinha que agora descobriu que o coração não se engana e Que
ama a Lay. John.
_I ♥ I_

Those Special Two Words

Dear Johnny Don Juany,

What a massive waste of time you were. The three words that I thought I could say to you have now been reduced to two:
fuck you!

Missed Connections

Dear John,

Will you please call me? I do hope you have my number. As, I was a dick and accidentally deleted your number. And, I can't find you on because we didn't even exchange last names. I want to see you again.
And, to everyone else, if you know him please tell him to call the small asian girl he met at Amika.

Love,
Jane

Relationship Advice

My Dear Brother from another Mother, First n Foremost

What can I say but ...O baby...o baby...O BABY

Ah, the heart. That little fuck pump that leads us astray. It has reasons of which reason knows nothing of. It clouds our minds, smokes up our vision...which is all eventually cleared up by it's mortal enemy: The Brain. The heart is but the horse, the brain is it's reins. Beware if the two unite, it paints a picture of reality. But that is rarely seen, especially in rideless horses like ourselves who fancy the pretty mares in the pen but just swish our tails, swatting away the flies. While some small time PONY takes them away with false promises of a big dick and starry skies leaving us STALLIONS to bite the dust and curse our luck while Fat King KKG (Kismat Ka Gandu) slaps his thigh laughing. Humph! Sometimes I think that picture of reality is painted with horse shit.

But YOU, my Gujrati stallion, should know that the mare you thought was flirtatiously swishing her tail at you was actually just taking a dump. There's a reason you didn't go up to her like the ponies do...you could smell the shit. If there wasn't any shit, you'd have smelt some fragrance and would have gone galloping to her even without being whipped. Such stuff is automatic...the horse doesn't need a rider to show or prod or whip him into doing something he doesn't do on his own. If he's pushed and anxious enough on his own, he'll go where he has to go by himself. Even she can't entice him into something worthwhile if his heart isn't in it.

They say, wheresoever you go, go with all your heart. But know that it'll only go where you'll take it. If you don't go a certain way, if you choose a different path, it was because it relieved you...it's subconscious, instinct, the right thing. Even if she was a unicorn :D

From

You know Who

Partially unrequited forever

Dear John,

2.5 years of partially unrequited love. This relationship we have - these complications, the moments of beauty, the hurt and frustration, the push and pull, the inside jokes, the comfortable silence, the nervous butterflies, the long philosophical conversations, the anguish of my heart, the complex nature of your thoughts, the laughter, the longing and missing - it's all been worth it. Every single moment.

And even as I have relationships with others... even as I have my heart broken from other men and break other men's hearts, I will spend the rest of my life loving you - in some shape or form.

Plan B

Dear John,

I still read your horoscope every morning, along with mine. I still check your Facebook, looking to find what you've been up to. I watch you go on and offline, hoping you'll talk to me… sometimes you do. Sometimes I'm left wondering who you're talking to instead.

I'm aware of all the girls you've been with since you and I were together, I've been around them a few times when we've hung out. I'll introduce myself politely and even at times engage in conversations with them because I know to be mature and I admit to being well-raised. It baffles me though what you see in them, they come out as being ignorant to everything but themselves. They are socially awkward, oblivious and selfish in ways I can't even depict. They all look exactly the same, completely different in every way from me. I'm left wondering what made you pursue me in the first place, I definitely wouldn't consider myself your type after meeting these bobble heads you date. I'm almost embarrassed to be amongst these class-less Jane's.

We still talk, we're friends, we go out once in a while. I insist my feelings for you have changed, I tell myself that everyday. Deep down though it frustrates me, being around you but not with you. Seeing you smiling in pictures I'm not in… watching you move on when I'm still just as hung up on you as ever.

The thing is, John, I have this hope, that one day things will change… and you'll wake up and realize you want me back. What gives me this hope though, is the way we are now. You've insisted on this friendship, and it bewilders me. I've stopped talking to you before, we've had numerous arguments where I tell you I'm not ready to be friends… time goes by and you'll message me, or text me, or instant message me out of the blue. You'll say something completely random, that has nothing to do with us. You know exactly how to get a reply from me. How to make me feel pathetic if I don't respond.

You don't want to be with me, yet you keep me around. Like a plan B, a safety net… an assurance that you'll always have someone if ever in need. I'm that someone you feel you can someday love again, that someone you know you should someday love again because we're both aware I was good to you, but your feelings are gone and neither I nor you can make them come back.

Maybe the timing is just wrong, or maybe you want to be sure there's nothing else out there better or greater before ever considering me again. Gosh, I feel like a tool saying this. I'm a professional at making you seem like the greatest douche bag of all. It's not hard… what you're doing, even though you're not aware, is indeed very unfair. It's in your nature though, and I've seen a better side of you, the one i know is around when you're truly involved with someone you care about. That's the side of you I crave… it's what lingers.

It was obvious my mistake was being too good. I was always there, I never played games, I gave you everything and more… your friends even enjoyed my company, do till this day, actually. Your family approved, even your siblings who had never enjoyed prior Jane's admitted to liking me. Even once we were done, and in bad terms, I've been in their company. You still talk about me with them, with your family. You tell me how fond of me they are. It's quite fucked up to be frank this little relationship we have going on.

Anyways, John...

I want you to know, that to the contrary of what you may think, I will move on one day. I'll find another John, one that will appreciate all my qualities and realize I'm not just a toy that can be played with whenever he feels like it or craves attention. I want you to know that you will want me back when this happens, and that you wont be able to have me back. I look forward to the day when you see me smiling on my pictures, and wish you were by my side. The day when you're the one wondering what I've been up to, looking for clues on my Facebook. I assure you, I'm more certain than ever that it will happen, and so I dedicate "Ain't It Funny (the remix) by J.Lo," to you on that day. Haha, enjoy it.

Xo,
Jane

Jealousy

Dear Jane,

Dude we're certainly not dating but your behavior is not in anyway how I would treat a friend (wasn't he also your flatmate's date?) whether he was or not, it was weak and it was a poor show. As much as I hate to admit it it, it was also hurtful and disappointing. There's a difference between this liberated openness and being cool and being an utter cunt. An untrustworthy one at that.

Shortcomings

Dear John,

You have a tiny, terrible dick.

Oops, BYE!

Laws of Me

Dear John,

You are my everything and my nothing simultaneously. By creating this seemingly virtual existence we partake in outside the safety of our separate worlds, I've become more satisfied than ever before and more agitated than possibly imagined. I look back on the way your body facilitates mine, the ridiculous pull you have on my desires, and I forget the frustration of not having you any time I want.

Since our first teenage-esque makeout session on the city street laced with winter, you've allowed me to piece together your being within my own mind without restraint. You are completely unaware of the individual I perceive you to be, want... need you to be. Selflessness presents itself in such curious ways.

Before you, I held the world to my greedily lofty expectations. My ridiculous nuances and desires of the way things should be according to the Laws of Me. During you, I've learned the only standards I can hold anyone to are their own. Within the four walls surrounding the World of Us, you've taught me tolerance by being loud mouthed and opinionated as I see you're shielding the history you so desperately try to shed. I've fully digested the puzzle pieces you've shared in confidence and have them sewn within the sanctity of my soul. You are safe, love.

I've always viewed striving to satisfy one's own desires regardless of consequence as selfish; because of you I now know that act is merely survival.

Hold me while you need me and feed my internal longings. For a moment or forever, pieces of us will float within our parallel universe and words unspoken will translate within. At least I'll know you know.

Me vs. You (and myself)

Dear Johns,

Over the years, I have left a remarkable trail of tears in my wake. It's not like I did that, this, intentionally. I never meant to hurt you, and at times, to allow you to hurt me. The truth is-I'm a sucker for love, and it seems to happen to me repeatedly. My excuse: I embark in all of these relationships because I learn a little bit from every individual that I involve myself with. Although it didn't start out that way. But the truth is: the only thing that I've gotten out of these...things, these creations of my mind, little fantasies really, is self-destruction and more anxiety. I tricked myself into thinking that all of these experiences would each enlighten me and take me to a new level of self-experience so I wouldn't feel to horrible about my track record of wrecking and ruining. Instead, I feel blase and worn-out. I really did try to work things out with every single one of you. I tried to make something of what we had, but I guess it just wasn't ever enough. I'm so extremely tired of this. All I ever wanted was that one person that could light up my life. I thought that I would just know who that person was when I was with them but I was wrong. Thank you modern media for corrupting my little girl years with promises of happy endings.

Take That

dear john and jane

I hope you're very happy together. Facebook confirms you two have got what I once set out to get, and now I've lost not only the first romantic interest since my heart broke from another but one of my best friends who I looked on like a sister. You cut me out your lives, but just remember I introduced you two....... something I'll regret forever.

P.S. I fucked him first

Blackgang Chine

Dear John,

I hate Facebook and the fact that I cannot delete your sister as my friend because she's so sweet and that'd be rude of me. Plus, she's pregnant, and you can't delete a pregnant lady!

I hate that I have to see your new girlfriend post on your sister's page about hanging out with your family. Oh great, she flew in from LA too. Good for you. You're taking her to all our old spots. Hope you have the time of your life. Not.

I hate that your new girlfriend is my doppleganger. We look exactly alike, people have said it for years.... before you knew either of us actually. Only she's in a band and probably cooler.

Barf, barf, barf.

Love of My Life

Dear The Love of my Life,

By all accounts, you're the love of my life. Leaving you three years ago was the most difficult and best decision in my life.

You were an absolute addiction. Like a drug, if I even got one whiff of your presence whether seeing you flash of your presence online, a passing email, it's like I suffer a relapse and I'm spending days struggling.

I miss when you use to say "Hey baby", in your husky sexy voice that I knew your complete attention was on me. I miss those kisses you use to give me on my neck that would send shutters all over my body. There was a time where it just didn't feel right unless I was sleeping next to you in your bed.

I miss the moments when it felt like we were in a movie. Once I was in my raggidy PJ's, you were typing away on the computer. And a song came on the radio and we were in your messy room. And for one slow song, you picked me up and slow danced with me for the entire song. Just out of nowhere.

You just couldn't get enough of my body. Sometimes, you couldn't wait to get my clothes off just so you could lick my cunt. It was such a privilege to be your partner.

And you're hot. You had the type of body that was shapely and would make girls wet in their pants. I hope you realise that.

Movie moment #2. I had made a decision to move to a new country for my career. You had arranged to leave with me at the airport. We were late, rushing to catch the plane before it would separate us, and you picked me up and kissed me in the most passionate kiss that people in the room couldn't help but stop and stare. There were no words, just a hush that came through the airport waiting room as people saw two lovers say goodbye.

What you may be struggling to understand, was that despite being madly and deeply in love with you, there was a huge unhappiness over my heart. Despite being my knight in shining armour, you literally were a knight in shining armour. You were trying to save me, and I didn't need saving. You looked for ways to save me, and in some sense, you relished in finding ways I needed saving.

I have dreams that I want to accomplish. I tried to take you with me. But you couldn't because either you thought I couldn't do it, or you weren't organised. You didn't understand that I'm a political person, and I wanted to run my life based on those politics. You in turn didn't understand the politics and at best only copied me because you knew it would make me happy. I had wanted to make life as an adventure, but you didn't even understand the adventure itself.

Because you were so busy saving me, you didn't realise that you were the one who needed saving. You became really insecure about your frailties. I would offer help but you didn't want to share that part of yourself. You were holding the knight in shinining armour paradigm so tightly, you didn't realise the metal was what was causing you to sink.

My last complaint, now that it's been three years of getting over you. Three years of learning that I don't need a knight. You keep coming back in between your new damsels in distress. And the relapses come back despite the new foundations that I have built from your absence.

I am now investing my energies elsewhere. If I keep telling myself I will find a new Love of my Life, hopefully one day I will believe it.

Leave me alone, old Love of my Life. I wish you were cruel. The best thing you can do for me now is to ignore me. I don't want to see you again until I'm an old woman.

Life lesson 34,722: How to be happy for someone else

Dear John,

I am so, so incredibly happy for you.

Well, no, I guess I'm not. I'm not unhappy for you, but I don't really feel happy, either. But I think if I keep saying that I am, either I'll start feeling it, or the repetition will trick my mind into thinking I really feel it. Either of which is suitable.

We were babies who fell in love years ago. Usually, I would say young love is infatuation saturated by the satisfaction of finally fulfilled sexual daydreams, but for us, it was real. Really real. So real, in fact, that I still love you.

I would never, ever tell anyone this. But if you were to ask me to, I would quit my job, boyfriend, and life to move across the continent (across the world, if necessary) and marry you in a day. That's how much I still love you. Or how disillusioned I am with adult life that I want that badly to go back to the simplistically difficult life that was my youth.

But you would never ask me to. So, I will continue to work at my literal and figurative garden with my meat-and-potatoes-love, praying that he never learns to like cherry tomatoes so I can continue to have them all to myself.

And I will continue to hope that you do and don't invite me to your wedding, and that I will and won't meet your fiancee, and that you are and aren't happy for the rest of your life.

My life as a hypocrite suites me quite well.

I am so, so incredibly happy for you. May you have found everything you ever wanted.

I love you, too,
jane

Sweet Leaf

Dear Jane,

You know right?

I am transcendentally in love with you.

fuck this

Dear Jane,

I don't know what we are. You confuse me, you don't bat an eye as I make allusions to us being Married but then you tell me what a wonderful a 'friend' you are to me.

You talk to me all hours of the night because you want to, and because I want to too. But I don't know how we're connected, or if we really are.

Fuck this.

We're Back

after a brief hiatus dear john has been resuscitated and we are back to accepting your lovely confessions and spitting them out...we missed you too.

Monon St

Dear Jane,

That sea is a temporary one, as much as I am also glittered by its crooning. You are my blanket.

Dream of the Honey

Dear John,

Home is who you are with, not where you keep your things. I'm waiting for you to come home. To make our own little world, just you and me.

Kuku

Dear Jane,

I am hoping you see this before you leave your apartment and start on your going abouts.
I have a favor to ask...if you don't mind:
please put some headphones on and play this song?
Please follow these prompts as you do this:

close your eyes. take 3 deep breaths.
then imagine that I'm kissing you, gently-
your cheeks, lips, eyelids, neck...
Please don't open your eyes until this song is over.

I am trying to send you a feeling from across the world.
I hope it was successful, please take it with you.

- John

Trop pop

Dear Jane,

Some of my favorite songs are starting to remind me of you.

Burned Cigarette, Nothing More

Dear John,

Tonight we met. While we were smoking and reminiscing the old and the new, you told me about other women andI felt small and stupid and ordinary... I have come to realise that I mean nothing to you, I am just a mere fading shadow in your life...

Oslo, Bamako

Dear Jane,

A morning without you is a morning in mourning.

Mystified

Dear Jane,

I like you.

Oh...
Pretty baby
This feeling I just can't hide
You got me mystified

Oh...
Pretty darling
This feeling is deep inside
You got me mystified

The light that shines around you
It blinds my eyes
There's a magic surrounds you
Tell me where your secret lies

Your song

Dear Jane,

In my head it's like 2 radio stations playing in unison.

I can't seem to get one to come in.

Fashionista photographs, the northern lights don't need a flash.

It's a picture worth some travel.

Over water. Over land.

Find the breeze to push the sails to the sand.

Good Luck

Dear Jane,

I think we know the same John. Your description of his Cuban curls, but he’s not Cuban, although he probably told you he was, his searing, searching glances, the kind that make you feel naked and burnt, the sushi. He picked up the “Would you rather…” question habit from me. I can see why you would say that you thought sex meant nothing to him, but in reality, for him, it’s everything. And he will call you and act as though nothing has changed.

However, my John would never have a dog. My John would lie about his age, but I can’t see him choosing one three years older than he really is—the eternal adolescent.

It was a relief to see the clues that our Johns couldn’t be the same person, but depressing to know there is more than one of the same out there. I’m sorry for both us, and for all the other Janes that cry for them.

Good luck,
-jane

Lone Tree

Dear John,

When we started talking I began to feel like I wasn't a lone tree in an empty field anymore. I always sensed that I would love your mind from looking at your paintings, and behind that sense I believed your heart as well.

And then I did. Quickly. The way champagne hits, you engulfed my thoughts, ate up my mind, consumed my thought process.

I booked a flight to see you. $500.00 and 20,000 American Express points. I remember after, near the end of that weekend where we fit so puzzle piece, no tension, just one back and forth, like breathing together. I was sitting there on your balcony with your dirty white dog on my lap while you slept after we had sex. Looking at all of the people walking below, off to someplace. I sat there crying, the silent kind, because I did not want you to see me cry when you dropped me at the airport.

The night before you took me out for sushi on a date and I met all of the important people in your life. We wandered by the ocean. You went off on your own and ran into the water with your clothes on. I was wearing a dress I could not ruin. I sat there watching you, 200 meters in the distance, my feet feeling the tide. I was a lone tree. You were a lone tree. I knew then we would never work. And I also knew then that I really loved you.

When my silent cry stopped, I opened the glass door to return to the bedroom. For a brief moment in time I crawled next to you and wanted you to wake up on your own and realize I was leaving. I sat there with my mind, willing you to wake up, wake up. Just wake up. But I had to wake you up instead. We had ten minutes. Those hollow minutes where you just want to get it over with and keep it all at once. Last ten minutes of an elementary school day. I can't finish this math problem in time. Just let me get on the bus and ride next to strangers.

I remember the way those bus rides smell with the dirty and the seats that are cut and taped and the noise of kids singing to some Ace of Base song they all know by heart. I felt lone tree then too. And for the weekend we spent together, I did not feel lone tree. Well, except for that ocean part. But we were lone trees together at least.

On the ride to the airport you asked me "Would you rather..." questions. You were filling my silence. But when you kissed me goodbye and your tongue dipped into the back of my mouth and I embraced you with my right hand behind your sweaty neck and fingers twisted in your black Cuban curls, I knew it would not ever be like that weekend again. Goodbye. A goodbye and I could not even say it.

I got on to the plane and sat there crying while listening to Bon Iver and feeling like I was coming down from the worst cocaine withdrawal I have had in my life. You were an emotional cocaine trip to me. You had texted me while I was walking through the airport. I could not write you.

You were number 6. The 6th man I made love to. Even though it didn't mean anything to you. Even though you hooked up with your ex two weeks later and told me you were going to. Even though I told you it hurt me.

Slowly we stopped texting and talking non-stop. We were going to see each other soon though. 22 days later and you squeezed me in for three hours in New York. Enough time for a drink, an in bar makeout. Some flirting. I did not recognize you the same way. I felt like I had placed plexy glass between my skin and yours. My emotion was in a Ziploc.

You massaged my tailbone and bit my shoulder between the bone and my neck. You kissed me and I soaked you up breathing you in and wedging my nose between your neck biting you back. I bit you hard enough to leave marks. We laughed. We discussed various nothings. You tickled me. I squealed and I looked into your eyes. You look like an owl. A big, dark eyed owl.

My emotion was in a ziplock. You pried it open. We got to your hotel. I showered. Came out with only a tshirt. Our bodies enveloped each other as we violently crawled around the bed. You picking me up. Tossing me. Me fighting, then surrendering. After the orgasms, I held you. You felt me breathing. You placed your hands on different sections of my back. Like a doctor listening to a heartbeat, your hands the stethoscope. The ten minute feeling returned.

I got up. I put my clothes on. You watched me dress. I put on my flat sandals instead of my Louboutins. I had no one to impress in my cab ride back to the East Village. You sat and watched me, your head propped up against your right hand, like a 37 year old male model, sexy posed...wide-eyed like a doe. Deep brown chocolate black doe-owl. Not human. Curiosity instead of compassion. Observing me like I was a NatGeo spectacle.

Then we moved toward the door, I kiss you goodbye, we embrace. I cry. You are cocaine. You don not feel for me what I feel.

I cannot look you in the eyes. Salty drips down my face. Elevator takes minutes. Literal minutes. I slouch my shoulders down as if I can sink into the floor. You watch from the door. WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME.

I cry the whole way home. You text "Te quiero."

I manically text my friend to keep from responding. I want to SCREAM at you. You want to keep me hooked.

Since my flights home from you, I find myself eating chocolate. I have never craved chocolate before in my life. I do not even LIKE chocolate. But I am eating it like a maniac. I have frozen bars in my fridge and I eat them when I cannot sleep after I brush my teeth. If you text me, I smoke a joint so I do not respond. I want to respond. I want to keep you. I told you I wish your were keepable.

"I want you to be in my life long term" You said, and continued, "Because that means more to me than just sex, which means nothing to me."

Long-term.

I'm having conversations with you, with myself, in my silence. Someday you will call me as if nothing has changed. Only with those silent conversations with myself, I will have said everything I wanted to say to you, and you will mean nothing to me.

Lone tree.

Boozey Blues

Dear John,

Looking forward to you packing your things and growing up. Your maturity or lack there of, causes a sting that preserves only your childish insecurities. Your integrity and sincerity is questionable and leaves me frightened from time to time. I want to get to know you more and ride this out for as long as we can always happy, exploring the world together and feeling the flight of adventure every corner we turn.

Why can't you just be in love, and consumed with the satisfaction of a swollen heart provides.

Guildford

Dear John,

Looking forward to laying in the grass, so fecund and ambrosial. Singing softly to you. And the quiet country hills rolling along the dotted line of our hoot and howl. Holding hands like baby chickens.

love,

Pumpkin

Who knows how to make love stay?

Dear John,

1. Tell love you are going to the Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

2. Tell love you want a momento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.

3. Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.

Over it

Dear Johns,

You are all completely crappy assholes.

Swoon

Dear John,

CALLMECALLMECALLME.

CALL ME.

Caaaaaaaall me.

Call me?

(Please.)

Forever Dream

Dear John,

I won't text you anymore. I still think you're a hot babe though. The minute I open up even the slightest is the same minute I close down. It's just how I am. I hope maybe someday I'll be able to feel something real, but the more time goes on the less I believe that's true.

And all I know of love is how to live without it.

Backs of Buildings

Dear Jane,

What a perfect fantasy you are! I want to do things to every inch of you. I want to invent a new level of pleasure with you. It's ok baby, I want to kiss your whole self. Beautiful sidewalker babe, I love. How do you you know what to say to me at all times? I don't like the ocean anymore. I hate the ocean. I wish these stars were above both of our heads. Marry me. I'll be your man in public and your slave in private.

Wish you were there, wish you were here. I'll soon be in a deep slumber. I'll dream of you. Sweet dreams, you little peach pie.

Ryebread

Dear John,

Really? Really? Really? Really? Oh my god, oh my god, OH. MY. GOD. Is this really happening?

Are we really listening to Leonard Cohen and making out in your bed? How are you such a hot babe? I especially like when you put your beard there. YES, there..... down there. Right there, god.

Ummm, I think I am probably dreaming. I never got on that plane, I never went swimming on the roof, I never snuck that whisky into the bar. You didn't kiss me behind the building, and you didn't hold my hand. I didn't sit on your lap or whisper in your ear. We never went back to yours and we're not actually here lying in bed the next morning. This must be metaphysical.

WAIT. Did I just hear that correctly? You may have written a song about me? You're band doesn't even know? Excuse me, but is this reality? It's a good song too. How long ago did you write this? THAT long ago? Are you kidding? How long have you been holding these fantasies, these secrets? How did I not even have the slightest idea?

I want you to sing it to me from the tops of buildings. I want to fly with you. I want this ocean between us to evaporate when I blow on it. I want to kiss your eyelids when you sleep.

Someday?

Love In a Hot Climate

Little of our bodies touched the mattress or couch or counter. We were always mid-air, a dance and nothing less. She was the choreographer and led me into the most beautiful sex. Partly it was breath, shaping of breath. It was tender, but at times she liked it to be just a little rough. We choked and panted and bit and licked. We wanted to feel, and we constantly discovered new things. Sex as invention and expression. Sex as a refusal to remain separate or alone. Sex as a refusal to believe the world.

A loft lined with windows looked down on all the bubbles, our own hidden space like the cockpit of an airship, our private Hindenburg. We never used the air-conditioning. We liked the sweat, the slick movements, the strands of wet hair over our eyes. She wore light summer dresses with nothing underneath. Clothing was costume and prop, used for tying or wrapping but never withholding.

- David Vann

What They Call Love

Dear Jane

I wish I was a better lover.

I wish I was a better friend.

I wish I was a better partner.

I wish I could open up to you.

I wish, I wish, I want.

I want you, and I wish I was good enough.

But I'm not and I'm glad you love me just the same.

John

Other lover

Dear John

I thought I should explain my little outburst earlier really. Firstly, of course I care about you - I care about you too damn much and no matter how hard I try I can't make it go away. I am sick so I might as well be honest.

I have tried so so hard to keep you in my life but the truth is, I'm not over you, which is mildly ridiculous because I was never under you.

This is quite hard to write.

I have tried with her, trust me. I have no ill wish for her, it's just everytime I hear from her or see her post something about you it's like another little stab, another little hurt, another little confidence knock. It truly makes me feel sick. I am not trying to be with you, I wouldn't want (or have the chance) to steal you away, I just quite simply can't see it anymore.

Been lying here trying to work stuff out in my head. It's not about what you look like or what your chosen career is. It's all about you. The way you are. I look at you and I see someone so beautiful yet conflicted by self doubt. Sometimes when I have looked into your eyes, I've just want to tell you everything is going to be ok. The way you make me feel is hard to explain. But to explain as best I can, you are always on my mind, the first thing I think about when I wake up. The person who I want to share my day things with and the dream that helps me sleep at night, the one that keeps away the nightmares.

When you got back with her I said I would always be your friend. I would be mature and accept it. I have accepted it. I've just found it confusing. I have found myself wishing I lived nearer to you - so you could see me more, get to know me more. I feel like you didn't take the chance to know me, the time we spent together always had a limit. I know I'm not the prettiest girl but it is still hard to have someone choose someone else, quite blatently over you. And you didn't tell me for so long. I feel so stupid about it, she has told me so much about how you got together and I feel stupid because when I was still thinking that maybe you and I could be something, you were already with her. I know it's stupid, but I just feel like all those nice times we had together, well, it was just all me - all me thinking it. I feel stupid and not good enough.

This isn't irrational emotion. This is honest, you are all I have ever desired in a man. You don't crowd me, you let me breath. You are capable of dreaming and have the ambition and drive of everyone I have ever admired. You give me butterflies.

I can't bear you touching me because I feel like you'll feel my imperfections. I can't bear you touching me because I feel like you'll feel my heart beat.

This is me rescuing myself now. I can't open my heart. I desperately don't want to let you go but I have no choice left. I can't look at anyone else, yet you are in love. You a building a life and a home with someone whilst I can't even bring myself to drag myself out on a date.

Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed! I have terrible luck but I like to think I am a good person. Maybe one day, if I get through all of this right now, my luck will change with men. Maybe I'll get lucky.

So this is me signing off. I have hopefully helped you see how much I believe in you, my praise for you is true. When I say things to you I don't pad it out with fluff, I see you and I mean everyword.

I guess I'll see you in my dreams. I am so pleased I met you, you helped me feel emotion again.

Utah Cowboy

Dear John,

I really did not know what to do when you starting crying. Right there in the middle of the club at 4am, your beard catching the tragic tears streaming down your cheeks. I am pretty sure that laughing wasn't the appropriate response though.

5 years is long time, things can get weird.

Sorry, John.

love long distance

dear john(s),

i feel like i exist very seperately from you. i am on my plane and you are on your's. we wave; perhaps we intersect at points, but generally, we're nowhere near each other. i spend time in the car, imagining what you think about, what you might wear to bed, how you comfort yourself when life feels overwhelming. i'm really interested but don't expect to have the answers any time soon.
i rode my bike in the rain, i called my friends. i took a bath and ate soy ice cream. i got to know some neighbors in the hall. i bought a hammer from the hardware store and put it under the sink. i do all these things in a tiny, private world. i do everything there. it's hard to remember the time when i was as connected as i was to my last john. it's hard to map out how that life happened.
maybe someday i'll hurry home to find a friend in bed. we'll be playing with our cat and watering our plants. maybe i'll bring up the paper from the coffee shop to share. maybe i'll pour two glasses of wine in the evening and watch movies on the tv and half groceries with a not so strange stranger.
until then, i'm very fine over here. i fumble and bumble around my house. i have late nights with friends and we smoke pot and order pizza. i walk home alone and comment to no one in particular about the big, dark sky.

love,
jane

High Top

Dear John,

I'm waiting for you to arrive at my house right now.

Can I be honest? You're too young for me. You're very nice, so sweet and caring. Not that I'm old or anything, but you're just 22. A young pup really. When I think about my priorities when I was 22, it makes me feel silly.

If I can be even more honest... you're just really pretty to look at, and you have a big penis. Those things are quite appealing when you're not looking for much more. I don't think it's going to work out, I'm afraid. But in the meantime, you're a lot of fun.

Life Project

Dear Jonny,

I hope when you look down and see the feather you think of me.

Fondly yet with a slight pang of regret.

In some small way that feather represents our time.

I know whenever I see two magpies, I'll always smile for you.

I often think of your skin when there's a soft salmon-coloured sunset.

I'm not sad, I just like those humble memories.

I think it's because history is so elucidating.

Without it, we would lose each other in vast spaces.

Flying Blind

Dear John,

I can't read this letter to you this time. (which leaves me concerned for the future of our relationship--what else will I start hiding from you?)

We're moving in together in a matter of weeks. I consider this to be my last move, at least the last until we buy another house, together. But, to be honest with myself, I planned on never moving in with someone until I had the promise of lifelong commitment from him. Not an engagement ring, as I'm too much of a feminist to want that (and I think they're rather tacky), but a promise. A plan. And being that I'm not the first woman you've lived with and you've never told me otherwise, I believe this is just a "test" for you, to see if you'll keep loving me.

I'm afraid that you won't.

Love, jane

Grown-up

Dear Jane,

I've known you since we were middle school, I used to make fun of how cute you were to all of my friends, I'm even pretty sure that some of my friends even liked you.

You only grew more beautiful as we grew older, I grew into manhood and by some grace of God an irrational Womanizer or at least that's the reputation I cultivated. I tried to grow up, and eventually reformed myself into the person my parents can be proud off. I hoped you'd be proud of me, but you barely noticed the boy that grew into the man.

You were known as the girl with the poor taste in guys, we even made fun of your last boyfriend, how if sharing a table with him and a piece of dry toast, how the dry toast would be more interesting. We could see why he was with you, but what was your excuse?

The truth is that thinking of you in the middle of a hectic work day makes me smile. What hurts is that you only come to me when you want something from me. That makes me sad. When you complain how their are no good guys left, well, that makes me want to gouge your eyes out....apparently their utility is wasted on you.

Sadly, I know that I'll always be languishing in the friend zone, not out of choice, but because I know your type far too well, and I'm not willing to compromise my awakened soul and become the morons that you tend to be attracted to.

I hope you change, but I know you won't. I'll always love a part of you, unfortunately, you'll never get to be loved completely and that is your loss.

John

Beach House

Dear _____,

I want deep, irrational love.

Wallpaper

Dear John,

I don't know why I have the incapacity to show unsolicited affection. You probably think I'm a frigid heartless shell, but really I just wanted to hold your hand at the cinema tonight. I kept thinking about it through the whole of the film. I am actually really romantic.

In my best efforts to conceal my overly romantic and whimsical tendencies, I act completely the opposite. Cold and locked away somewhere. And it's only when I actually like someone that I become incapacitated. I think it comes out of the fear of being seen as too keen, too emotional, too easy.

You kissed me all through the night on Friday and tonight, I wanted to kiss you all the same. I wanted to put my hands at the edges of your collarbone, the spot where it meets your chest, and kiss you long and slow with eyes closed but not all the way. I wanted to knot my arms and legs around your arms and legs. I wanted to touch my eyelashes to yours (my mom used to call them 'camel kisses'). I wanted to grab you by the neck and press my nose against your cheek.

Instead, I formed sentences that bored even my own self. I am really sorry for that.

Well here it is, John, I hope you give me a third chance. I'll make it up to you. I think you are really special.

Deserted

Dear John,

One day you're hot, the next you're cold

one day you leave me in despair, the next you cover me up with gold

you say I'm yours with all your might

but that's just another saying of some kind

you like to see me dance around the room

covering my body with the silky sheets of our bedroom

we smoke and and you play with my hair

we zip a bottle of wild turkey

and I remain bare

on the floor helplessly looking at you

but you're not there to the rescue.

You fool, my fool...

You choke me and leave me stupid inner scars

for I daydream of you

and you daydream of streetcars

the world is nothing but a memory you always say

and that our love making will be knocking in the doorway

of the sweet time flown

like an old record of chet baker s trumpet moan

you left to wander out into the memory

leaving nothing but a creamy shirt and a fantasy

I sometimes wear that piece of cloth

thinking of the boy who left me for the world.