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Have you ever wondered why every love letter I write is paired with an outdoor photo?
Grass. Trees. Flowers. Sun.
Because:
a) Your presence feels like a sunny day.
b) It’s where we always meet.
c) You’re as magnificent and beautiful as this city’s scenery.
This letter might be simpler. Less poetic than the others.
But I still hope you enjoy every word.
Even if you don’t read it at all, that’s okay.
Maybe you’re tired of these letters. Tired of being loved this much.
Tired of the attention.
I’m sorry if it’s ever felt like too much, baby.
But baby... you don’t need to do anything for me.
Just keep standing where you are. As you are.
Your existence alone already touches my heart and fills my mind.
Even your silence calms me.
Even when you ignore me, it still feels like therapy.
You bring me peace.
I think you already know everything I think of you.
About your puffy face (because I know you meet me just after you wake up).
About your warm smile.
Your soft, raspy, heartfelt voice.
Your energy.
Every single damn thing about you feels sacred.
You are:
A temple where I kneel.
A creed where my prayers are sent.
A breeze when I need fresh air.
A shadow where I hide from the burning sun.
Do you believe what I’m saying?
It’s okay if it feels like sweet, empty words.
Because there’s nothing else I can do to show you my naked heart.
It’s just... me.
With my words. And my shy eyes.
Maybe, just maybe,
This whole thing isn’t something you need.
Maybe this seventh love letter is too childish for your taste.
But baby, please let me write.
Because this is the only safe place where I can document everything about us.
Please.
I’m not asking for much.
I miss you so badly, and I hate when I can’t see you.
This busyness is killing me.
But maybe, just maybe,
I’m the only one yearning.
Baby, thank you.
For saving me.
For believing me.
For helping me.
For everything.
You are special just the way you are.
I love you my dearest-prettiest-kindest angel.