I am so thankful that I get to hold you, that you enjoy holding me. I am thankful for every breath we breathe together, for every moment you spend with me, for every brush of your hand against my skin.
I am addicted to you, darling. Your scent, your touch, your voice, everything about you. And I want you to be just as obsessed with me. I spray my perfume on your t-shirts in the hope that you will smell them and think of me. I dream of you, and I day-dream of you, and I write about you, and I write to you. I write pages and pages of letters to you and to myself and to God and to anyone and everyone who will listen. I write in my journal. I write about the times that you’ve hurt me, the times that I think I’ve hurt you, the moments when we have shared great joy and the times that we have spent lying in each others arms, with nothing between us but the air and our secrets.
More than anything, I want you to know that I mean every single word of this letter. Especially these last six.
Love, love, love always, my darling.