I once gave you letters, typewritten on handmade papers. In them, I wrote my heart out to you. In them, were tiny pieces of me that longed for a touch, a caress, an embrace, a moment of comfortable silence, a simple nod, a listening ear, a good night kiss, a snuggle, anything that will make me smile in peace at the world. You quickly glanced through those knitted words and asked, “Did you write them?”
I wasn’t sure if you doubted the writer or the lover in me. For a moment I considered that, perhaps, in another world someone would have appreciated both.