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Monday, December 26, 2005

Great Reach

Beloved,

I’ve enjoyed our dancing, lately.  It never ceases to amaze me how easily you make love to my mind.  We dance, we turn, we spin, your fingers barely touching me, then we dance and turn and spin away and my eyes flash with knowing as I see you take her hand.  She smiles, so certain, so sure, or maybe it’s a facade, but you avert your eyes from mine.  You know I know.  We both know.  And I love it.  I think you do, too, even though you think you hate it.  It’s safe.  We know we’re safe, at least we think so.

You could still break my heart with a word (and do daily, given the chance) but I’m addicted to the dance.  I’m addicted to the rush, the feel, the look I can’t see in your eyes as much as the words I see floating past me in an ancient and mystic language that we both know we don’t really know, but rather feel.  Call it intuition.  You’re my passion, at least for the moment.  I may not be yours, but you enjoy the dance which keeps me coming back for more.

The whispers of your dreams don’t haunt me, now.  They warm me.  I dream myself into them, bringing about a merged perfection.  By what standards?  Does it matter?  Perfection is fragile and we both know that.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m dreaming and laughing and dancing and even when you dance away with her, I know a part of you - however small - is left with me.  That small part is all I need - por siempre.

Las palabras son de gran alcance.

Gracias. 

Ayudaré a sus sueños para venir verdad.

Con Cariño…

Posted by Vi®tµal Ю£aM on 12/26 at 04:16 AM
Posted under: Secret SeductionsThinking of You31 DaysUnsent Letters

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