This is my first letter to you, even though I'm not sure if I love you. Or if you love me. But if I had to guess, I'd say we do.I want to tell you about our first night together. Yes, of course you were there. I'm sure you remember it. But I want to share with you the part that you weren't privy to. The part I found satisfying and symbolic.For every hour we spent in your bed, you held me. Somehow we were entwined, the entire night. Not for one moment did you let me go, out of your grasp, beyond your touch. It was as though the other side of the bed would have been a world away.I slept with my head resting against your chest. Like I had run a race and stopped to lie on the ground, with my face cradled by the softest, sunwarmed grass. The earth underneath, your heart below, beating with life.Each time I moved away, your hand reached out to bring me back. When a person is asleep can he know his arms are empty? How can a man far in one place summon love from another?
I had forgotten how delicious that could be, to be joined not by words or thoughts but by flesh: soft, warm, heavy. When a sigh is a sentence and a caress a paragraph.
So in return I offer you what comes out of my fingertips - my words.
They, and I, are yours!
( taken from a book of letters....vennessa roy)