My dearest One,
I write these words because I must, because I hope for the kindness of your favorable reply.
Because I am torn between my intense desire to see you, talk to you, share with you and the terrible dread that the only way I should ever be able to properly say hello is to make love to you;
Because I could run to you with child-like, wide-eyed wonder only to have you punish me with apathy;
Because to simply imagine the sheer brilliance of your presence causes me to stammer nervously;
Because the mere touch of you could strike a lightning bolt of current through me that I should be riven from the deep, dark well of all prior existence.
You have no idea how terrified I am of you. I am more scared of you than I am of a toothache, or heartache, or bankruptcy, or rats.
Because you have so many differing sides and shapes to you:
Lover. Fighter. Poet. Crow. Hawk. Bear. Wolf.
How can I possibly change my own shape to follow yours?
And yet, if you were to turn into a dragon I believe I would come to love scales and claws and become desirous of kisses that singe.
Be merciful as I become acquainted with your mercurial transformations and take pity on me should I get burned.
As it is with courage that I abandon myself in trust to your chivalric nature for I am a blind fool stumbling through a labyrinth. Take my hand. Show me the way to your heart.