love letters

scars publications

high roller I long to see you sitting again cigarette in hand walkman on the table I want to be able to walk up behind you rest my hands on your shoulders lean my head next to your face I long to have my cheek near yours not touching but so close that I could still feel your warmth your desire our skin wouldn’t touch but I would still feel the rush from your presence

this may sound I don’t know this may sound silly but every night just before I’m about to sleep I think of you and when I turn out the light and crawl into my empty bed a piece of me feels missing I don’t know what it is but I feel a hole right about where my heart is when I have to lay there night after night all alone when I am with you I feel as if I am complete I feel as if nothing in the world matters when you’re holding my hand with your heart near me then I can sleep and then I fall into my empty bed and I feel the hole again burning through my heart and I wish I didn’t feel so alone and I wish the hole would just go away

the finest feeling Drench me in the finest furs surround me in the rarest silks of the Orient. Rest me in the clouds. I don’t care. I still contend that the finest feeling is laying with my head on your shoulder

how could i not love you In hysterics, we danced as we crashed the Chinese New Year’s Ball. You taught me how to waltz. Blushing, I listened to your best friend ask me if you were opening up sexually. I told him there was no problem. I remember when we filled the prophecy of your horoscope by sharing champagne at the fireplace at the end of the week. We even toasted marshmallows. Nervous, I stood in the amphitheater and serenaded you. I’m sure I sang off key, but you said you loved my voice. You gave me a long-stemmed rose when you made me dinner, when we went downtown, when you came back from church. I kept those roses. Teeth chattering, we sat on a tire and kissed at the playground at midnight. It was bitter cold, but I didn’t care. The thought of you puts a sparkle in my eye and I can’t help but smile whenever I see you. How could I not love you?

love poem You are the air I breathe. you enwrap me you consume me your words your eyes tear through me Life is not I, but we. I want you here tonight. I won’t fight it I can’t hide it there’s nothing to subside it I know that this is right. I can’t wait for the time please just hold me please just kiss me please just tell me that you’ll miss me When I can say you’re mine.

i see the scene Every once in a while I see the same scene again: I lay in the bed the field of daffodils with you draped over me folding over me conforming to my body like a rustling curtain rippling in the breeze from an open window. I do not sleep. I couldn’t, I would never want to. Our contours interlock, our limbs intertwine. Your breath rolls down my stomach like the breeze that brought you to me. I take your hand, and although you sleep you seem to hold me with all the intensity you possess. And with each beat of your heart, with your heat, comes the cool night air in the wind caressing me until the light from the morning sun awakens our silhouette.

touch the lust her lips quiver anxiously she wants desperately the craving the longing the yearning is no longer contained His eyes fixed in a trance-like gaze the erotic fantasies the passion the obsession his burning torrid appetite is released Her heart quickens as her breath becomes a pant sensual sexual she is ravenous with need His hand moves his anticipation climaxes salacious lecherous his muscles tense with excitement the cyprian lurid desires the heat the fire they cannot hold back he touches her

desirous the light from you the flames leap up licking my lips touching my skin the fire moving in it’s desirous dance the smoke intoxicates me as the remnants from the desirous inferno drum a rhythmic beat and crackle as they burn the ashes fall sprinkling tickling my face sliding down my throat coating my lungs making every breath a desirous pant I chain myself my body falls limp I am entwined with the desirous world the desire from you

john at the other side of the room I look through the cigarette smoke the roar of conversation and the dim lights I look at his face but I no longer see John I have dreamt and envisioned a God-like figure I have imagines his sensitivity and his thoughtfulness I have felt his hands caress my skin his lips meet mine he has held me one thousand times and protected me I have rehearsed our moments together in my mind the moments I have created the candlelight dinners the dancing the loving while never knowing him more than across a crowded room the music blares as I look over my shoulder between the empty faces and see his image laughing smiling conversing with friends my eyes flare with envy I wonder why he is not with me but I know the face across the room is no longer John it is a door to a dream that will never come to life

you’re with me I sit in a chair in a lonely corridor I’m all alone but I see you there You’re in my thoughts I see your face imagine your touch I hear your voice but you’re no place You’re in my mind I’m all alone but then again, no for even when I’m alone You’re with me

i listen It always seems when we’re together you ramble on and on and I just sit and listen. You’ve often asked my why I don’t talk as much, or why I bother to listen to you. I want to tell you why. I like to hear your voice. Your accent turns me on. And every once in a while you say something that I like to hear. I like to watch the look in your eye when you talk. I like the emotion that wells up inside you. There are two tiny little candle flamesÑ one in each of your eyes. They flicker they jump from one subject to the next. The flame in your eye is hypnotizing. Your emotion stirs me and the love you possess moves me to tears. Besides, I don’t have to say anything. I am content with merely looking at your face and hearing your voice. I, like you, can tell you how I feel without saying a word.

tall man I can feel your presence across the room a movement a stir your long shadow stretches across the walls an occasional glance I’ll take whatever I can take a stranger yet I feel I know you all too well

there i sit there I sit I sit alone separated isolated away from my only love my obsession I pull out a fountain pen I look at the lines the contours of his face defining the piercing eyes the pointed nose the tender lips I feverishly draw I sketch I capture his image I stare I gaze I memorize his every detail but he never looks back so I will draw until my fountain pen runs dry

writing your name I sat there in the shade I took a stick I wrote your name in the ground preacher says the #1 sin is lust then I am condemned to Hell for I want you and I don’t care what preacher says for if the elements wash away your name tonight I will be back tomorrow to write it again

they called it trust Do you remember when it was 1:30 a.m. one rainy night and you asked me what I wanted to do? I told you that I wanted to take a bottle of champagne, climb on to the roof of your house and toast in the pouring rain. You asked me why I said that. I shrugged my shoulders flippantly and said that it was something to do. But I was testing you. I was afraid to ask if you would follow me when I told you to trust me. And that is why I trusted you when you poured the champagne and kissed my wet skin

motorcycle you scared me. but i liked it. i remember sitting behind you on your motorcycle. i think my fingers shook as i held your waist. and i remember looking at my head on your shoulder in the rear-view mirror. and i smiled, because it was your shoulder. as i felt more comfortable with you, i moved my head closer to your neck, smelled your cologne, felt the warmth radiate from your skin. you scared me. i clenched your waist every time i thought you should have used the brakes. but i still sat behind you. besides, it was a good excuse to hold on to you.

having children one day Every time we’re together we talk about how much we both love to play with children. I wanted you to meet my niece and nephew, Claire is five, Marshall is two and a half, oh, he’s so adorable at this age, all he does is hug and kiss you. And it’s so cute how he kisses you, you’re holding him in your arms and he grabs the sides of your head with his tiny little hands and he kisses your nose. Well anyway, I just thought you’d think they were adorable, well, they are, but I just wanted to see you with them. And you came over, and they saw you, and they were probably thinking, “a stranger, oh no, it’s a stranger, run and hide, run and hide,” and I really hope you didn’t take offense that the kids were a little scared of you. What do you expect, they’re little, they’re afraid of anyone other than their mother holding them, I mean, you understand, right? But I wanted you to see them, I wanted you to see the love I had for them, for the future, for their future, for my future, for our future. I just wanted you to see why my eyes glowed when I talked about them. So the day went on and little Marshall sat down next to his daddy to watch t.v., and even though he didn’t know you he sat down next to you, too. And earlier you kept doing cannonballs into the swimming pool so that you would splash Claire and I. She laughed when you did that, you know. I told you earlier that day that I felt like I was never wanted by my family before, I was unplanned, unwanted, neglected, blah, blah, blah, and you were saying you would never have an unwanted child. If one day your wife told you she was pregnant, you could never not love the child. That child would only enrich your life more, those were your words, I remember them exactly. And I wanted you to know what it meant to me when at the end of the day the kids were leaving and I told little Marshall to give you a hug and he did. And he gave you a kiss, too, right on the nose, and without my asking. And you laughed. And you looked at me, laughing while this two year old boy clung to your neck and you gave me this look, this look that was almost serious. It was a look that said that one day this may be yours. And it may.

seven miles Okay, so you were going to be in Chicago for a few hours, and then you’d be driving out of town again, and I really wanted to see you, so I said I’d be more than happy to drive to the city to see you for an hour or two. Okay, let’s meet at the Planetarium, I said, because it would be the quickest place for me to get to from the interstate, besides, you were in the city anyway, you’d easily get to the Planetarium before I would. So okay, we’d meet at 3:15, you said, and I got off the phone and rushed out the door. And I got there, traffic was a bitch, but I got there, parked my car and then proceeded to walk back and forth looking for you. Where the hell was he, he didn’t have much time before he had to leave, where could he be, it’s been over twenty minutes, what trouble has he gotten himself into now? Knowing him, he probably thought I said the Aquarium and was waiting at the building a block away from me, the big jerk. And all these men were staring at me, like they’ve never seen a woman in a suede skirt before, one of them even said hello to me, and I had to sit there and try to ignore everyone and brood because you were late. You probably crashed the car and were bickering over insurance with someone while I sat there. Made me drive for a couple of hours for nothing. So then I finally see you sprinting up the block. Your oxford is unbuttoned, and the closer you get, the more red you look. Okay, now I’m intrigued. “Where have you been?” I asked, and as you’re panting in a vain attempt to catch your breath you explain that you couldn’t get the car out of the parking lot because the person who has the ticket stub for the car is in the doctor’s office, so you ran seven miles to get here so that I wouldn’t wait. Okay, I feel like a heel. And you never cease to amaze me. I know you said you’d go to the ends of the earth for me. Seven miles is more than enough.

soybeans Have you ever jumped in a vat of soybeans before? It’s very strange, it feels like you’re a kid in one of those playground things where you jump in a pit of colored plastic balls. Except soybeans are a lot smaller than those balls in the playgrounds, and I guess they don’t have all those colors. Well anyway, I went over to his grandparent’s farm, and he decided to take me on a tour of the farmhouse. The cows were smelly, I made sure I kept my distance, and I just kept calling to them, saying, “hello, moo-cow.” And there were a bunch of cats running around the field, and we picked up a couple kittens and held them up high in the air. I kept asking the cats, “do you love me?” and he kept asking me why I was asking for approval from cats. Then we gave them some milk from his uncle’s farmhouse. And then he took me up a ladder to the top floor of the barn. That’s when he proceeded to take off his shoes and jump over into a ledge. He told me to join him. I couldn’t quite see what I was about to jump into, it was almost dusk, but I took off my shoes and socks and jumped in anyway. And my ankles sunk into the soybeans. And I started laughing. And I fell, and then I started to bury myself in soybeans. And then I jumped around a few more times, then I just started throwing soybeans at him. And then I just laid down in the pit of soybeans for awhile. They felt cool on my skin. I could feel the dust from them covering my legs, my calves. There are time like that, times when I just have to let go.

how a woman falls in love I Okay, here’s scene number one: it’s about three in the morning, you’re in a wheat field with him. He pulled his junker off the country road, got out a blanket, and just started walking. You followed. The hip-high blades of grass were wet with dew, you can still feel the cool of the water when you think about it now. And you can smell the wheat, you can smell that it’s green, that the acres in the dark are screaming with life. He finds a spot and pushes the wheat down. Then the blanket goes. Then you go. You remember that all you could see was a few stars in the sky, silhouettes of trees waving on the horizon, wheat hovering over you like skyscrapers. And him, kissing your arm, your shoulder, your cheek, your eyelid. When the two of you leave, he tells you it’s a little after four. And you don’t believe him. II Okay, here’s another scene: you’re sitting at your desk, and out of the corner of your eye you see a jar of potpourri. There are about twenty white roses in the glass, they’re still whole. You dried them yourself. So when you see the roses you stop your work and let your eyes wander until they can’t see anymore. And you daydream. You remember him coming over with two dozen long stem white roses, taking you on a picnic. You ended up in the balcony of a music theatre eating croissants and strawberries with sugar, drinking champagne, listening to a pianist play Mozart on the stage below. And you remember that he took you to dinner afterward, but what really sticks in your mind is that after dinner you brought him back you your place and you turned on the stereo and slow danced in the dark. continued You moved away the next day. But you put all the roses and all the leaves and all the baby’s breath in a small garbage can, filled it with some water and took it with you. And that’s why you keep the roses dried on your desk. III Okay, I’ve got another one: you’re fulfilling your end of a bet, so you take him out to an empty road one night, fully prepared to serenade him. But every thing starts to go wrong: the wind picks up and you’re shivering with a chill, you’re coming down with a cold and sound nasal, you get nervous, he’s going to hate it, you’re going to make a fool out of yourself, and you can’t even think of a good song to sing. So you’re racking your brains for a good tune, you should have thought of this before, he’s still there staring at you, and finally you remember this song from your childhood. Your older sister taped it for you, you don’t even know who sings it, but all you ever thought was that it was a song about romance, about love lasting forever. So you just started to sing. In the back of your mind you always thought that song would be the song you shared with your husband. But you didn’t tell him that part. IV So now jump ahead a couple weeks. You’re at a bar with him, it’s crowded, you’re pretty drunk. After the bar closes he takes you to his car, his already pathetic car, you know, the one that stalls at intersections, and by now the driver’s side door is stuck and won’t open so he has to crawl in from your side. Well, he drives you to his house and he lets you in and he goes upstairs and he gives you a bouquet of flowers, and then he gives you this compact disc with the song you sang to him on it. He found out the name of the original singer, and by the fourth record store he found the song. And he got it for you, girl. For you. V Alright, one more. No picnics, no serenading, no gifts. Here’s the scene: you make dinner with him at your apartment. You set the table, lower the lights, turn on some big band music real soft. He opens the wine. As you eat, the two of you start talking. About politics. About the upcoming election. About abortion. The death penalty. The judicial system. About the ethical dilemma in returning clothing to a retail store simply because you’ve worn it and don’t like it anymore. About business. About the welfare system. About philosophy. So when you can’t eat anymore you just kind of lean back in your chair and watch him. You smile. He’s your intellectual equal. He talks to you. You know, earlier that day you were looking through the want ads because you wanted a new apartment. And you mentioned, without thinking, that the two of you could save money by living together. You still can’t believe you said it. Or even thought it. But the thought is still there, haunting you, teasing you, in the back of your mind.

Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.

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