Dear Celia,
Dear Celia,
I am writing to you to tell you it’s okay, and if you do not believe this, I pray you believe in this- it will be. I pray you have the hope everyone says we need.
My dear Celia, you can keep quiet and keep your fears at home. I don’t mind you hiding yourself. You don’t believe in a lot of things, as you know. So, add this to the list- my heart will take me there. I trust my heart to take me there- there where your true home of secrecy is. Your true home, not the address to which this will reach you, hopefully. My hands are a shaky mess, my dear. I want to choose you over my solitude sometimes but my solitude has been my love as much as you have been, if not less. Forgive me love but I’m not lying; I, too, have the angst of burning slowly. Well, it’s settled then. The world is miserable, you are miserable, I am miserable. Before you conclude all is miserable, let me ask you to share my misery with you, my dear. It is not a mere habit to be a friend of your comfort and discomfort, it has become my nature to love you. And, what better way to put it than to say it’s natural? What would you want to do in this very second you’re reading this question, if not take me in the flight of your arms, as light as the air, as firm as the strongest bark? Tell me, if on a million pages I write, will you leave logic behind? Will you confess your love for me as much as you manage to send me a variety of beautiful flowers each time? I long to hold your hands and tell you I want to spend my time writing only the needful letters. Tragedy, it is, my darling, people love love-letters without realizing how most of them have been written in awful distance, separation, what not, my love, what not! You’re a better Celia than a Juliet, I, a better Robert than a Romeo, and with love and still, hope, and more and more love, I wait again. I wait for you again.
I am writing to you to tell you it’s okay, and if you do not believe this, I pray you believe in this- it will be. I pray you have the hope everyone says we need. My love for you, my courage.
In all my senses, yes,
Yours,
Robert.
