Tonight, I have no poetry begging to be written, no bold philosophies clamoring against my skull. I don’t wish to cry; I don’t wish to laugh. I only want to talk to you through these words, utter simple devotions that are too often hidden beneath my rhetoric.
Bec, I miss you when I’m not with you—always. It’s not a desperate loneliness, just an emptiness where there shouldn’t be any emptiness, a vital thing missing that should be there.
I love you, Becca, feel alive and at peace in your presence. I make myself vulnerable to you, trust absolutely both you and the love we have. You see, this love was given to us. Whoever or whatever gave it to us will not abandon us now.
I will care for you in every way available to me. This is, finally, the main gift I have to offer. I extend it without condition.
Just as I miss you every minute I’m away from you, I delight in every minute I’m with you, never wish to be anywhere except in your presence.
I’m completely devoted to you and your well-being, desire your happiness above all else, will use all my resources to insure that end.
Selfless? I suppose. That’s what my love is. That’s what you call forth in me.