My Dearest __________,
The other night i stayed up late to read that new michael cunningham novel you picked up for me. By the time i came to bed, you were already asleep. When i layed down, you rolled over, your body found mine, and you nestled yourself tenderly within the curve of my body, all the while maintaining a continuous, light snore. I felt your touch and your breath, i smelled your spicy scent.
I looked at you. I like to watch you when you are asleep, and not in some creepy-weirdo kinda way. I stare at the lines of your face, the hills and dips, your long, lush eyelashes, the bags under your eyes, the center point of the heart part of your lips, the way your eyebrows get ruffled like a bird's feathers. You look like you're nine when you are sleeping. It's the only time you radiate innocence and seem at peace with the world, yourself, and perhaps, even me. It brings me comfort seeing you this way.
We didn't fight tonight. not even a squabble. and i thought "tonight is a good night."
We've been fighting an awful lot lately, so much, that i wonder sometimes if we're going to make it as a couple. Depending on my frame of mind, I can sometimes attribute the conflict to your stressful job and our respective family bullshit, that we just need to make it past this crappy bump in the prosaically proverbial road and it will all be better. I mean, i know with certainty that there is love between us.
But we've been together awhile now, what four or five years? Between the frequency of conflict and the relationship's duration, the intensity of our passion is currently on hiatus. it's equally amusing and difficult to watch new couples interact, their exchanges peppered with newness, excitement, and lust. I think we both miss that.
I'm trying and I'm waiting for you to join me. I'm sure we will eventually find our way back to each other. Until then, I will hope for more good nights.