When I write these passages to you, I am writing them in you, through you, and of you. My pen drips with the essence of your life-giving love, oozing around my soul, my pen. I am forever exploring the woman you are to lead my creativity into deeper depths, leading my creativity to higher highs. You are eloquent, sensual, and oh-so-beautiful in my eyes. I dream of ways to unravel you in the most tender ways, so I can see the many levels of woman that you are.
You are my muse. The great masterpiece handed to me to love and cherish. Your ancestors steered your freedom to this time and place for me to adore the conscious you.
The you, who knows how much I love you. Who appreciates the things I am and the way we give ourselves to each other. Yes, I have a talent, but what would it be if I did not have your inspiration? People have always asked whom I write about because people can feel the tension of desire, the longing to be touched, the need to be in your arms. Some I have woven the spell of truth about you and what you have meant to me. I write of you most gently and as compassionately as I can. I try to capture the essence of the woman I love, so I leave a record for the world to see. I want the world to know that I am a man who found the epitome of love in you. The stroke of my pen is you; it always will be. I have forever written to you for you.
Always know this, My Love, this is how I love you.
One thought on “To You, For You”
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