I've never been a fan of flowery prose and crap like that.
When I try to think of how to tell you these things, that's all that will come out.
So if you don't want to know how disgustingly mushy and pathetic I've become because of you, then stop reading now.
The rays of the sun are disappearing behind the crested mountains, their waning light painting the sky in vibrant colors. The forest around me is alive now, the inhabitants rousing themselves to feed before returning to quiet existence. Little do I have in common with these creatures, and part of me mourns that I shall never know such freedom.
Instead, I am shackled by honor and obligation, bound to my word to serve one whom I would discard if it would only get me closer to you. Discarding these distasteful ties, though it would free me, would deny me any contact with you. I would be bereft of that which gives my pale life meaning.
Such an end, though considerably more peaceful, is anathema to one who is as enamored of you as I find myself to be. Volumes could be written on the breadth and depth of your keen intelligence, a force underestimated by many due to your enfeebling beauty.
It is quiet here, yet not. Sounds of life surround me, rustles and movement. I am alone, yet not.
Thoughts such as these make this somewhat more bearable.
Continuing this aggression against you becomes increasingly difficult, not because I fear harming you - rather, that I know not the warmth of your sweet touch. I have not felt the assurance of your honest smile, glowing with affection for me.
I may be selfish to wish for such things, but this cannot be helped. I ache for this, I wish for naught beyond everything you can give. If such a boon is not to be, I am able to survive that, hollowed and bereft though my life will be, as with any who loses the richest treasure.
I sit here amongst the rich greenery that is reminiscent of the verdant shade of your expressive eyes, and I dare to dream of a time and place where you care for me. I walk with you through these selfsame woods, our hands buried in our pockets as we talk quietly. You turn to me and smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief.
Just thinking of such things fills me with warmth. I am a fool to even dream of these things and I am undoubtedly damned for them. Though I think of them as fond wishes, I do not wish them for me. I wish for such scenes of bliss to be known by your heart, to be cherished until all has fallen away. I wish for you to know the joy of your lover's embrace, the content of a life well lived filling you with a heretofore unknown elation.
Regardless of all else that is true in our lives, the only thing I want you to take from this is the knowledge that you are cared for, beyond wisdom, beyond life and beyond reason.
- end -