Yes, I am your special friend and yes, we still have so much in common. We’ve both been banished to a world of make believe with kindred souls sharing the same affliction. We have no elbows. It’s a strange malady, but is the glass half full or half empty? We can’t feed ourselves, but we can surely feed one another. If only you let me. Tell me what you want and help me feed it to you. And I’ll tell you what I want and you can do the same.
When I read your letter I could only think about myself and how I would love to hear something you’ve recorded. I would love to hear your voice in that special way. I would love to be mesmerized by your gift from God. It would be music to my ears. Are you allowed to share your voice in any way?
Feed me. If I cannot hear it, can I hear about it? Can you do what you’ve done already and respond to my childish pleas for love once again? Can you write to me?
I had a deep discussion with my wife and it has left me in a place full of passion. Not because of what she won’t allow me to do, but because of the door she left open. She loves me dearly and wants me to live my life in freedom, as long as I respect our marriage and work within certain boundaries.
My manhood will never feel the glorious warmth of the inside of you but I am allowed to talk about it. I can write erotica and pen wondrous love letters, if even of despair, even though I am not allowed to pursue my insatiable appetite for sex in real life. But this is good. This is OK. I am still alive and so are you. I know because you’ve written. And I am still longing to send you my love, although my heart’s been smitten.
Are you allowed to read and hear my messages in a bottle? Tell me the rules so I won’t break them and lure you into a world of the guilty ones wearing the scarlet letter on their chests. Can you read my erotica? Can you talk about what I’ve written? Your voice is not lost if your love is not lost. I can still hear it in the words you’ve written.
I can hear a longing for a world of passionate love. Yes, we can still feed each other, if we accept our limitations. It goes something like this.
We were given our five senses and maybe six. You can’t speak to me, but can you write to me? Can you listen to me and can you feel me? You can’t smell me but can you take a whiff of a fresh red rose and be reminded of my love for you? I know, it’s complicated, but can you see the trees and the flowers in the fields and smell the freedom of God’s gift to us? You can see me. You can hear me. You can feel me in your heart. Are you allowed to feel me in your private parts too? And if you can feel me, are you allowed to give love back and touch my soul?
Yes, you have already. Yes, you called me your friend. And I felt so good for a second. You wrote back to me and you kept our secret, if only for a minute. You allowed us to see each other again. Love will find a way. If you continue to hear my knock and let me in.
So spend a minute. Tell me the rules. What can you do? What would you be OK with? Are you allowed to write to me? Can we talk about sex in our writing? Is love an allowable topic of discussion? Can you read my love letters and enjoy the feelings I’m trying to portray? Is your moral code allowed to take your imagination away?
But maybe I am better left in a dream, the dream that created you, an infinitely beautiful and seductive goddess. Can you undress for me now and let me gawk at you through a window? Am I allowed to pleasure myself as I look at you dance in the distance? Or are you forced to close the blinds so this peeping tom will never you see again. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I saw the beauty in you. Will you let me see it again?
Or maybe it’s better to sever our ties. Maybe we should never meet online. Maybe the sparks that fly between us would be too great to resist as a fire burns out of control in our hearts. Maybe the only solution is stay apart. If that’s what you want, just tell me. Be honest. Tell me the truth. I’m a big boy. I can take it.
But if we can be friends and stay friends, feed me a little morsel of your love right now. Give me something. Anything. A kind word. A recording. Some outward expression of love and affection, because it is through your love and because of your love my world will be a better place. For I will take anything you give me and cherish it in my heart as we watch it grow into the well of emotion that I’m allowed to express in the erotica I write. And that is how we can both collaborate and procreate.
In any way we can, we should love one another. Writing love letters and sharing them with you is my way of expressing love. My only hope is to be able to pen the right words so you can feel this intense and passionate love meant for you.
What if you shared an inspirational reading instead? Can you record scripture and send it to me?
1 Corinthians 13:4-8 New International Version (NIV)
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
Where there is a will there is a way. Be creative. Let your juices flow. God has a plan. We will both feel good about it, if it was meant to be.
With undying love,