May 25th
Can we really die out of love?
**
Only do I want when I want to be alone.
Only you do I want when I'm tired.
Only for you do I go out when I'd be better in bed.
Only with you do I feel better than anywhere else.
Only to you don't I ever forget to answer, do I still write to even when I've decided to take some distance.
I only want you.
Only you remain you, no matter the circumstances.
**
I'm not done writing to you.
I have so many things to tell you outside of the game, so many things to write to you, but I think you already know them.
I won't let go of you.
You'll see me, read me, put up with me until I leave, until I can't make the most of you anymore because of the distance, the physical void which will separate our bodies for good.
I won't let go of you.
Even when I'm gone, you'll still feel me because I will haunt you, because I will think of you so much that you'll hear me.
I won't leave you.
I won't leave your hands which I have held in mine, which I have knead for the pleasure of feeling them grasp mine.
I'll always play the game as long as you invent it, as long as it allows me to have a few words, a few attentions, a few hours with you.
You'll remain special, the most special of all, the only one who truly is special, the only one who had so much effect on me.
When you're here, I want to live.
Like you.
With you.
I want to tell you that I write to you. I want you to know. Other than with our hands, other than with our games, other than with diverted invitations.
All of this is our thing, but I don't want it anymore.
I want you beyond the words, beyond the paper. I want your body and soul. I want all of you.
She is so lucky, she who knows you, to whom you show yourself, whose hands don't have any limits to respect, who can have you the way I dream to have you, who lives and sleeps by your side.
**
Why do you accept my invitations?
Will there be a last time?
How will it happen?
What will it look like?
Will it be as unknown as the first time? As new and unexpected? As unpredictable?