I love you, but...

Dearest Kelly,

So here I am by your favourite ‘sunny’ window – now ‘our’ favourite window – without my T-shirt (wink, wink), which is lying wet besides me, and I’m sipping on chilled orange juice, which I don’t particularly like, but it’s better than mixed fruit juice, but what I’m really thinking about is how exquisite and delicate you are. I miss you… It’s mad, this love thing.

And I am glad that no one can see me right now because I’m smiling like crazy. I’m thinking about how you sound; how you call me an idiot like only you can. I’m smiling as I recollect how your eyes dance when you talk and the shape of your mouth when you are thinking about how to say something, and how you light up when you say it. And I’m smiling when I think of how no one says ‘shut the fuck up’ as cutely as you do.

And I like how you try and hide those cutest hands from me, and how you have that naughty look on your face when you know you’ve succeeded in teasing me by depriving me of you.

And I don’t particularly like Marquez, Kafka and all your highbrow stuff, but would love to listen as you read even the most boring War and Peace to me; more so, because it is long and it would take ages to finish: You, to read it out aloud, while I just lie in front of you and watch how your mouth forms words.

Also, you must know: I don’t mind listening to your music. I know you say the stuff I listen to is so full of angst, but then darling, the music you listen to is just too ‘old’ for me. But you know? I’d listen to your ‘old’ stuff with you just to see your face as you enjoyed it. And oh my God: To see your tiny feet tapping to the music and those happy toes wiggling.

Hmmm, wondering what’s your shoe size. Insane, I know. Mine are quite small too, like a size 42.

You know? I’ve always wanted to teach you a few cuss words in Spanish – the ones I picked when I worked on the rigs – and those really rude sounding German ones too. Why? Because I’m an arsehole. Ha, ha, ha! Also, I’m sure they’ll sound wonderful when you’d say it; you know? Probably use it on me. But that can wait.

And yes, I love you. Though I no longer know what that word means. I think four alphabets are too less for a feeling so complex. If you ask me – and I am rambling here – I think the feeling should be described by a more longer word; say like deoxyribonucleic acid. Hah! Let’s swap the words: ‘I deoxyribonucleic acid you very much’. Gah! Not so romantic, no? I think I’ll stick with I love you.

I love you, Kelly. Very much.

I need to stop writing now. You know? Wash this red off my shirt. You love the colour red, don’t you sweetie? But this is now turning to some yucky brown.

Ah yes, you obviously can’t hear this, but I am playing your favourite Thelonious Monk CD. I see your happy toes, only they don’t look so happy anymore. You know? It sounded cute, but you shouldn’t have told me to ‘shut the fuck up’. And why would you even say such hurtful things? You know Kevin will never love you like I do. Yet he gets a pair of keys to your apartment. I don’t?

I hope you know that I didn’t mean to, but you know how I get when I am angry. Fuck! Don’t stare at me with those eyes. Please, don’t! Just know I love you, aight? Please know I’ll always love you.

Dale