A Love Letter: December 12th, 2009.

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Dearest Love...

I'm in in love with you, well not really, I'm in like. But let's say it's somewhere in the middle. It's kinda like I'm not falling head over hills, but in my mind it's still all like, "Damn, if she let me take her to the movies, I totally would".

him makes me...sick. He's not me, and he can never offer you what I have. Hell, he's pretty damn handsome, to be honest! Handsome...and ungodly shallow. That's no fun, beautiful. I'm an ugly beast, inside and out. Imperfect in every way. Ungodly gifted in areas of composition and historical context, but imperfect all the same.

Dump that zero for a negative number, beautiful. Get to know a real man. A man who only cares only about himself and his own personal affairs, not fashion, not others, never trends. A man who needs not alcohol nor marijuana to get high, but can get out of his own world by letting others into his. A man that could show you the world in a day, without even taking a single step. He's just not treating you the way a woman should be.

Your beauty can only compare to the fairest of goddesses, if you aren't a goddess, in my eyes, already. And when a guy can break his own religion to just describe you, that can tell you so much...

Your skin, a light hazelnut, shines brightly as the afternoon sun on a clear venetian day.

Your hair, organized chaos. I love it. It's everywhere, here, there... a rainbow of dark brown strawberry hues jumping off in every possible direction. So original, so cool, so carefree...

You and I Love....we go back three years. I've always felt this way for you. The first time I saw you cry, I instantly fell for you. That rough and confident exterior could only keep sensitive, more emotional side of you under wraps for so long. And only a guy like me could appreciate a woman's true, deep emotions, as they lose themselves in mine.

And I need you to understand, that this infatuation is in no way sexual. I'm not your average scum of a man who only constantly thinks of intercourse. I still uphold a sense chivalry, something I will never forget, never discard, and never set aside.

I shouldn't be too hard to find. I usually hide under a immature guise, afraid to show what's really inside. Black straight-legs, size 10 chucks. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out who I am if you try.

I beg of you to keep this letter of profession to yourself, keeping it intimate. But if you decide otherwise, I wholeheartedly respect that.

And with all of my heart, I hope you discover me.












Sincerely, your admirer forever.

















"Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind, and therefore, love is a winged cupid painted blind"


- William Shakespeare





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