i love you

this is a typographical reproduction of a handwritten letter. it is a love letter. a poem. a story about love. a letter for you. you will never read this letter. if you are reading this letter, it is not for you. you don't know who i am.  i wrote the letter with my left hand and i folded it in two. i put it in an envelope and addressed it to you. i don't know where you live. i kept the letter under my pillow for a week. i slept on the letter and i dreamed about you. i dreamed about the words that i had written and i dreamed that i taught french at a private school in outer space. what i mean to say is that most of my dreams were about you. or the letter. but some of them had nothing to do with you. they were just dreams.

that's healthy. my love for you is a level-headed love. thought out. passionate but not obsessive. spontaneous but not monkeys with upside down faces. the letter isn't crude. it's romantic and i mostly wear pants when i read it. i read it a lot. out loud. i know it off by heart. i recite it to myself. it's about flowers and sunshine and fields of corn. most of it is not about corn but there's one part where i imagine myself to be a farmer and the corn represents our love. but not when it gets harvested, sold to the supermarkets, and eaten by people we do not know.

this letter expresses feelings of which i could never speak. unless i wrote them down and read them out loud. which i guess i am doing to some degree but if i had not written the words down first i could never speak them to you. i used a thesaurus a couple of times.

we will be together my love. breakfast at a restaurant that overlooks the beach. the sausages do not represent my penis. i just like sausages and you are eating pancakes, which you have folded over into the shape of a vagina. i will be nervous and you will hold my hand. you will touch it to your lips and joke that it smells like bacon because i ate some of your bacon with my fingers.

we will walk home in the breeze and i'll be wearing a white shirt. we'll retire to the bedroom and i will find out if your thighs look like how i think they will look like when i think about them. your breasts too but it's probably better if we don't go there in this letter. this is a romantic letter.

and i assure you, we will be happy in our love.

except for the fact that this letter will never find it's way to you. you will never know my name. i will tear the letter up into a million pieces. i might burn it and toast marshmallows in the flames. sad marshmallows. but they will still taste pretty good.  

to you, my love. for you and about you. this is my letter.

love,

this is the part where i dipped my finger in chocolate and pressed it to the page. it looked a bit like blood but if you smell it you can tell it is chocolate.