I once wrote a letter to a lover. I left it at a local coffee shop that we both occasionally visited. I pinned it on the community bulletin board and I asked him to retrieve it whenever he could. In that letter was the purest expression and articulation of love I have ever mustered. I wrote it on gold trimmed stationary.
He never did. I probably didn't know for months after. I had been afraid to ask. I did not want to confirm his disdain for me. His disdain for someone who'd only been fighting to love him. Loving him was difficult, unreciprocal. I was so determined because I was confident in our potential and our bond. I felt our foundation was solid. It was not. It was as unstable as any foundation could be between two people who hated themselves.
But besides the outpouring of love, the letter housed something else. Something that he needed to know. I needed him to know something important. In that letter, I needed to tell him how important he was. Not just to me but overall he is a special man. A man with seraphic qualities, a beautiful man. I felt like he needed to know. He needs to know!
But he never got the letter...