english,
Milady Dear,
Love is a topic so often touched, yet it still remains mysterious and shrouded in confusion. What exactly is this curious emotion? Oh, it is so many things at once. It is a faint whisper that is difficult to find and yet is always there affecting your whole being. It’s a siren’s song which lures you to your death that you may be a better man, reborn. It is a slow descent into madness that brings not asylum, but joy and togetherness. It is, lastly, though not, as the cliché goes, the least that feeling I hold for you.
There is so much about you that deserves notice. You are fair—that is without question. One time, you were bathed in the golden light of the sun, and it emphasized all your features, in stark contrast to the room’s dull and drab interior. You were a love fairy in a classroom grove. You’ve a wit that yields only stupid jokes, but I can’t for the love of God, help but laugh. You work hard for your goals. You brave stormy seas and sleepless nights for things you consider important. Your dedication is admirable. You also keep child-like joy about you. ‘Tis something so rarely seen today for people wish to become “adult” quickly. To be able to both retain a child’s glee and become mature and responsible at the same time is commendable.
Forever, according to Emily Dickinson, is composed of nows. May all those nows be spent ‘twixt you and me. We could get lost in the streets of an unknown town and try to find our way home. We could lie beneath a starry sky and just savor the fresh air and each other’s company. We could do anything.
Sincerely,
Rory Williams
Literary (Submission): A Love Letter
Milady Dear,
Love is a topic so often touched, yet it still remains mysterious and shrouded in confusion. What exactly is this curious emotion? Oh, it is so many things at once. It is a faint whisper that is difficult to find and yet is always there affecting your whole being. It’s a siren’s song which lures you to your death that you may be a better man, reborn. It is a slow descent into madness that brings not asylum, but joy and togetherness. It is, lastly, though not, as the cliché goes, the least that feeling I hold for you.
There is so much about you that deserves notice. You are fair—that is without question. One time, you were bathed in the golden light of the sun, and it emphasized all your features, in stark contrast to the room’s dull and drab interior. You were a love fairy in a classroom grove. You’ve a wit that yields only stupid jokes, but I can’t for the love of God, help but laugh. You work hard for your goals. You brave stormy seas and sleepless nights for things you consider important. Your dedication is admirable. You also keep child-like joy about you. ‘Tis something so rarely seen today for people wish to become “adult” quickly. To be able to both retain a child’s glee and become mature and responsible at the same time is commendable.
Forever, according to Emily Dickinson, is composed of nows. May all those nows be spent ‘twixt you and me. We could get lost in the streets of an unknown town and try to find our way home. We could lie beneath a starry sky and just savor the fresh air and each other’s company. We could do anything.
Sincerely,
Rory Williams
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