Under the winter sun

Dear Lenny,

A change of season is upon us now: the trees are bare, the winds blow unopposed, tears stain hard surfaces of the streets.

Weeks lie ahead: it’s going to be cold ,,,

Winter is upon us now, and I only have memories: the light blueberry fragrance in the way you smell on your skin, the penetrating gaze in your eyes in the way you look at me, the feathery yet confident graze of your finger and hands in the way you touch me, the firm and sensuous caress of your lips in the way you kiss me.

Someone once told me: where there’s something valuable to be had, standing in the middle of a frozen pond, you don’t run, you need only walk slowly and surely to find your way home. The journey is as important as the sum of its components, for us to stop long enough to hold those pieces in our hands, to look at them carefully.

I told them then, as I tell you now: I want to believe. I’ve been desperate enough to wish it to be true; I always have.

The next breath can’t come soon enough, Lenny; I need you.


— 2013 December 24


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