Apple Whore (kylefuetzvater) wrote in perfumed_garden,
Apple Whore

contribution anyone? Sure!

While on my way to admire the roses I found a strange envelope, and investigated it's contents.

My Gilded One,

You’ve only been gone a day and already I feel like Fredrick Pope and Victoria rolled up in one; understanding and embracing the creative urges, and yet missing you with every fiber of my being. I didn’t sleep a wink last night for my constantly opening eyes hoping to see you on my pillow. And now I can only think of staring, to paraphrase Oscar Wilde, “At the tress of gold-flecked hair that we had once so wildly worshipped and so madly kissed.” It is always in a sort of madness that my lips find yours. It is madness to be without them.

Without you distracting me to the comfort of the velvet bed I’ve poured out three whole chapters in my long ignored work. Even with looking over every few minutes and straining to see the outline of you that I swear still lingers. and many a free thought has been of watching you move with the grace of a panther on the bed adjusting yourself as you curl up with a volume of your favoriteauthor of the moment. Blake still resides on your nightstand yellowed pages curling slightly as if waiting the return of your hand.

Oh to feel your thumbs against my cheeks as you gently cup my jaw in your hands, staring into my soul with your sapphires, and urgng me with those same jewels to lie down, and listen to Beethoven pouring out of the stereo.

The “Ghost” trio has yet to be removed, It manages to match my mood and uplift it simultaneously. Oh to feel your hands play me as they would your violin, even the mere thought of it warms me in places only you can barely reach.

Even if all we did was lie in bed touching each other as we watched the leaves fall in the yard outside our window, I would be happy, I could sleep. The press of your flesh is far better than any chemical dosage to aid sleep, and far healthier in my mind.

And now as I write I feel my hands gripping your hair holding your kiss to mine, like I did at our wedding in the garden, crushing the silken cherry petals into your hair and tasting the ambrosia of your mouth. to hold your lower lip between mine as I let you pull away finally, stretching my favorite moment of contact for as long as I can. And feeling your hands on my shoulders as gentle as they would be that night I sigh and do my best to be patient for your return.

All my love, Always

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