unfurling of a great burden
2:17 p.m.

c.m.g.

i am writing this letter to you out of the haste of my heart.

you have electronically enscribed the most gorgeous and laborious encryptions that i was not meant to read, yet it is out of the desperation and obsession to find you again that i fell upon them. it is not for perversion of spirit that i seek you still. the days are just too hard, cold, and plain here without the cunning animilia that you once were: the empty halls you stalked so gracefully, the crevices where your pen curled intial encodings of exquisite and enigmatic escapades.

you transcend in my mind beyond a physical desire greatly further as i have been allowed into some of the lower lands of your thought. all i want from you is more of that territory--to hear your quests; inner ascensions and falters. and if that is too much to ask, forgive me. pardon my craving for more of your delicious speech, for your wanton weightlessness in words and wonderment.

how you are so solidly sturdy against a generation of lethargic fools is beyond my perception. all i truly know is that you have clarity in mind and body about what being human means. you know yourself to a degree and cannot be therefore afraid of ideals and struggles. smaller worldly matters of ignorance seem to irk the fine work of your inner universe, but beyond those you are as whole of a person as i have ever known or projected to want to know.

unguard yourself colleen.

you are the last embers of fire on my hearth,

and whether that angers, intrigues, or damages you, it is so.

you have ignited a hatred of my restlessness, an acceptance of my passionate side in my heart which will not be easily dampered. i love what i know of you and what i desire is to know you.

if there is any deterrent to this letter it will probably be the unjust social barrier that i must now, unhappily but forcefully, put up.

i am a woman, not by choice but definition, and therefore may never feel the comfort of traveling on your same dragon-curled path of life as such.

if you can look beyond that and into my eyes. if you can look past this silliness and of the confines of what would be considered friendship or courtship. if you could let me know what your voice sounds like on a blustery winter's day in Pennsylvania. then, then, then--ah!

i would embrace you and finally be the wild, untamed thing my innards suggest: unacceptable, unstable, and certainly no longer wary.

silent years without you don't seem like anything, it is already known, they will be unbearable.

a most grateful and impacted admirer.

sat

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