I started writing you in September and June before that. Then there was the previous November when I struggled trying to write something I have no business writing. It is truth, all of it, sincerely put to the page, but an intrusion I fear, one pushing its way into another life. It would never be my wish to intrude. I value that life too much for reasons ever difficult to explain.
Tonight I look for ways to write the many things I wish to say. I want to believe you would understand, even though you walk your own path through your own life. It is my deepest wish, this understanding, and perhaps another selfish one, that you may sometime have a glimpse of what it is I have seen. That is a selfish wish indeed, for I know what such a glimpse can bring with it. It can bring a feeling more beautiful than words could ever capture but also a longing for what you know will never be found with another.
It is very late and I am tired. There are times I cannot breathe without you. Tonight is one of those times. Breathe with me, breathe through me or just breathe for me. I need to breathe, but I need to feel you there.