Where do I begin? How...do I begin, to even expose the ways I want you? In my own language perfection would be written with the letters of your name. Funny, when I describe my ideal man, in so many ways, you do not match up, but you tend to float above on a level only you can provide. When our conversations end I am left fulfilled but painstakingly craving more. I can't get enough of you, I don't.... get enough of you. We're friends, I'm sure that's all you see between the two of us excluding the desire to explore me sexually one improvisational evening and I wouldn't dare be hesitant to play the role. Maybe you're not the one for me, maybe we aren't compatible and I'm okay with that but I'm in need of more you. I'd like to kiss you and discover whether you send shocks through my torso the way I fantasize. I want you to miss me when I'm away and I want to be the bearer of your news ... I dream of even your fine print. I want to know you....I want to see through who you pretend to be when your emotions are afraid to reveal themselves. I want you to depend on me, get angry when I'm not available for your own selfish exigencies. If I could have this for one day....that would be enough. I suppose it's the mystery of it all, I'm just so fucking curious. You do this to me. Maybe it's best we're friends, I like the image I hold of you now and won't even consider the possibility of you being a disappointment. If you gave me anymore I can't say I wouldn't fall in love. I've fallen for the mystery of you....
Sincerely, ME
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