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Dear Scott,

If I could have the moon, I’d give it to you. Wrapped in satin, with white roses too. Will you love me then? Will you kiss me, caress my hair, stroke my face the way lovers do?

How I wish to be held in your arms tonight, safe from the dark, the cold, the unknown. Close our eyes and forget the world; dance to the soundless music of our souls as they meet and entwine—oh, just think! Or feel, with your soft lips on mine, what it is to be understood and loved and forgiven, all at once.

If I could take your hand and place it over my heart I’d show you what I mean when I say ‘I wish you were mine to love, to protect, and to love some more’. Were eternity not an illusion I’d promise to love you till the end of time, my dearest, darling Scott.

‘Oh, he has such a way with words, it pains me so…really, it does!’ I thought and said and sighed, chasing you across the page, dizzy with delight. Eyes wide with wonder and heart wild with desire, I traced your thoughts over and over again with a shaking hand, savouring their beauty. I etched them deep into my hungry soul; prayed they’d nourish all its hollow crevices. They did so much more than that: I fell in love with you.

It is with the conviction of a madman that I write this letter, my phantom beloved. I love you with all my heart and I bequeath my mind and soul to you; do treat them well.

With more love than there are stars in the night sky,