Okay, I'm in the process of scoring a book deal.
And I need your help.
The book is a collection of love letters,
in the style of Postsecret and bound into a coffee table book.
I've been collecting love letters for years and years,
because I think they're beautiful, and they make me happy.
I have letters addressed to me, to others, and letters to people
I don't even know, that I found on the ground
or in the mall or in school or mistakenly put in our mailbox after we moved.
One I found scribbled on a slide at the playground, & I took a picture.
But I don't quite have enough.
I need your love letters.
I realize they're special to you, so I will accept photocopies,
but if you don't want the originals, I will take those.
I know a lot of people just want to get rid of
the love letters their exes gave them.
Please, if you want to contribute,
e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
You can censor it beforehand, if you wish (please don't!)
using a BLACK MARKER ONLY. Don't scribble shit out.
Just draw a neat line across where he said
he wants to fuck you or something, covering the words.
Your name will not be included unless you want it to be.
Obviously I'm not giving out my home address on here.
So e-mail me if you want to contribute, and I will send
you the address of a P.O. Box. You can mail it there.
Letters sent may or may not be included in the book.
I am looking particularly for letters that are well-written, legible,
beautiful, sad, angry, or break-up letters, but any letter will do.
It doesn't have to be on paper, per se.
It can be written on napkins, the sidewalk in chalk, your arm,
your yearbook, anything, so long as it's about love & is addressed to someone.
If the letter is not on paper, please take a photograph and send it.
I know most people wouldn't try to send their arm in the mail,
but some people are hilarious retards.
Please help - and tell your friends. Please.
I love you. Thank you.
Ode to Love Unventured
A vast field of flowering daisies is inside me.
Complete with ten thousand fluttering butterflies creating a palate of joyous color.
I think about your mocha eyes, your sweet girly muskiness and your smooth curves
and try to gather the courage to talk to your deepest self; suddenly the field comes alive with wings. Ten thousand butterflies taking flight, twenty thousand fluttery wings churning my guts and making me sweat as I face your face and bare my soul to your soul.
In the light of day or morning haze or a dim lit space we may share
the glow of your being floats around you and engulfs me with such force,
such force of being that surrounds me and seeps inside me without effort or restrain.
You captivate me, intrigue me, send me into depths of emotions that are hard to
grasp, hard to express, hard to contain. Feelings of longing, feelings of desire
fleeting moments of utter bewilderment as your love-light
clouds my reason, my sanity, my control.
The simple question; the question that begs the question. I question myself.
I walk alone. I walk with my own thoughts, thoughts of your thoughts, your ideas,
your brilliance. Why me? Why you? Why us? Why should we hold any keys lost?
Am I drawn by discourse or intercourse? Is it the way your beautiful cocoa colored eyes dart away at the last second which betrays your thought? Or the plumpness of your full pouty lips that beg to be kissed? Oh, the need to kiss those
lips, the need that dominates the day and the night. The need to touch you, to caress
you, entwine with you, to be inside you, outside you, near you, with you; combined with you. Stimulated, challenged, toyed with, mystified, amazed, stumped.
Metaphors abound, you are the light, the gilded light, the aura of pure love, the mystery of Atlantis, the majesty of the full moon, the beauty of the White Cliffs of Dover, the seer, the dreamer, the traveler, the teaser, the pleaser, smart, chic, sexy.
As I ponder my fate and your fate and the fate of those yet unborn, un-lived, untouched by our karma in the generations to come, unknowing beings, unaware beings, blissfully ignorant of the love forces hard at work in their behalf - I entertain those karmic forces at work, I accept, I welcome, I long for, encourage, bathe in and wrap your love force
around my very being, my essence, my heart.
I love you.
© ‘03 .m mason .moore
My dearest Debbbie,
I can't remember what I had for breakfast today. But I remember kissing you on a wall 15 years ago in the middle of a cool summer's night rainfall in Geneva, NY; I remember the passion; I remember you laughed because my wet shoulders were steaming.
I can't remember who I wrote the last check to yesterday. But I remember the night we made love 13 years ago and concieved our child; it was July and I didn't need to count backwards from her birthday; it was a hot and humid Saturday night in Wamego, KS; I remember the passion; I remember dabbing the little beads of sweat off your brow afterwards.
I can't remember the disagreements we've had. But I remember the Friday that we bought and sold a million dollars worth of real estate and businesses in Tampa, Fl.; I remember the nervous emotion and giddy excitement of starting another new life; I remember at dinner you reached under the table and squeezed my hand while telling our dinner guests, "yep, he's a winner, I think I'll keep him."
So my dearest, as you sleep peacefully, I am agonizing over each word in my best effort to tell you how I love you so. Every moment of every day since the first time I laid eyes on you and nooged Ed K. and told him, "see her? She is my future wife." That was 16 years ago. Yes, I remember. Paying bills is easy to forget. Old bosses...easy to forget. All the pretty women I have had the pleasure to eyeball...very easy to forget. You? Hard to forget. Hard to stop thinking about. Hard to stop wanting. I want you right now. I will want you 10 years from now. When I said, "till death do us part" I meant to keep that promise. That is why I am,
You really are the wind beneath my wings. When I have a meltdown you're always there to hold me and tell me I'm beautiful, you wipe my tears away. When you're in pain it kills me, because I only ever want to see you succeed and be ever so happy. No matter what happens in life, I hope and pray every day that we stay together. During the past 8 months with you, I've so many things about life and myself that I never could have learned without you. Your family is incredible, and without them I would not be the same. I love you and believe that you are truly the greatest person on this Earth. My family loves you and believes in us, and I love you and believe in us. Our dreams will come true darling. Even when times are rough, and we get very busy-we'll always make time for eachother because nothing can keep us apart. 8 months later we still get butterflies and super happy just seeing eachother, or getting a phone call from one another, and I think that's pretty special.
I love you, and I wish there were better words to describe it, but I really don't think any single word, or even a few paragraphs could ever even compare to our love.
Thank you for all that you do, you are beautiful.
I thought you might as well know how much you mean to me, although you've probably guessed already.
I want to thank you for the times you talked with me, laughed with me, walked with me, been daft with me, and the times you simply stuck with me. Other people couldn't understand, and often just chose not to talk to me. It seemed the easy option. You picked the difficult one. There've been times when we've fallen apart, but I've always known I can't last long without you.
Dear - - -,