I love you. I love saying it to you and need not ever need to hear it back. The rain’s a barrier. A good excuse for going out, a better one for staying home.
TO BEGIN WITH
This is 2-of-7 of my "Love Letters Unsent" series. I wrote them for Denielle back in 2008 when I frequently traveled to Cebu and Davao because of work. I promised to post one letter a day before before Denielle's birthday.
I wrote these letters during my stay in different hotel rooms. They were called "unsent" because I only made Denielle read them after I came back home.
A LOVE LETTER UNSENT II
Dear Baby,
I love the rain. The look. The smell, the feel of rain; the extent and breadth of much importance as the clouds that hold them. The chill is a plus; comfortable, relaxing, makes me cherish the warmth of being with you.
It rained today. All day. Everything was the sound of rain. Children laughing in the streets, dogs barking, cars splashing mud at one another – even the music on the radio sounded like the rain. Tonight the storm continues. It is raining, all right, but I am prepared. I’ve closed the windows, taken the furniture off the porch, warmed up the tea pot and I’ve readied the candles just in case.
Outside? The rain goes on. Washing away noise, fatigue, and hustle of day just ended. The wind escorts it, blowing trees and electric wires, wanting to be the only sound everyone could hear.
Inside? You are here. Here inside me. My heart had been soaked by you even while inside the comforts of this room. Moments like these add to its wetness, as I bend down to your thighs and grasp a handful of you in an easy grip. Pillows and blankets provide steady support, and we stay this way a small forever, my other hand pressing your head ever closer to me.
Our kisses come together so often, as if one pair of lips cannot canvas the other quite enough. They interrupt whatever else our mouths are doing, speaking, tasting, sighing, breathing. Have I been kissed so often? Never. And it is never enough. The taste of you is not like anything a man like me can describe, for it is different every time.
It’s about eleven thirty now, nearly everybody’s gone to bed. You fell asleep some time ago. I’m not sure when because I dozed off a bit myself and now your head is heavy on my chest while your hands are clasped prayer-like down between my legs. The sweet sweat of contentment is everywhere. Outside’s cold couldn’t penetrate our warmth. The last words you said as you were drifting off were “I love you,” you never forget to say it, in my ear or on the telephone just before the disconnect.
How can I not love you while you go on reminding me of how you care? I am not too old to be spoiled and I feel as though I’ve never been this wanted, needed, ever. Ah to be necessary to some necessary one. It is as if the weight of all the years without love has been carried off or never was. To after all this time discover, come upon the reason, the because for living. And oh, the motive to live on and on, the grounds for taking all the roads ahead as far as they will go.
Could I, can I love you more? Oh yes I can. I never had this much capacity for caring any time before. Prior to loving you I loved and never dreamed I was rehearsing for the main event. I make no apologies for lovers had or wanted. Look where loving led me. Look at where it leads us now.
In front lies everything. Watch us tear through earth and heaven up ahead. We’ll cough out every devil that would bedevil us and spit up all hells that try to come between us. I love you. You know how is that. The invincibility of that phrase when it comes out of truth is from a third strand.
I love you. I love saying it to you and need not ever need to hear it back. The rain’s a barrier. A good excuse for going out, a better one for staying home.
Baby
Raymund's Random Insights
Rain’s a good excuse for everything.
Rain is only rain to some, but an experience for lovers.
Love is better being done than talked about.
TO BEGIN WITH
This is 2-of-7 of my "Love Letters Unsent" series. I wrote them for Denielle back in 2008 when I frequently traveled to Cebu and Davao because of work. I promised to post one letter a day before before Denielle's birthday.
I wrote these letters during my stay in different hotel rooms. They were called "unsent" because I only made Denielle read them after I came back home.
A LOVE LETTER UNSENT II
Dear Baby,
I love the rain. The look. The smell, the feel of rain; the extent and breadth of much importance as the clouds that hold them. The chill is a plus; comfortable, relaxing, makes me cherish the warmth of being with you.
It rained today. All day. Everything was the sound of rain. Children laughing in the streets, dogs barking, cars splashing mud at one another – even the music on the radio sounded like the rain. Tonight the storm continues. It is raining, all right, but I am prepared. I’ve closed the windows, taken the furniture off the porch, warmed up the tea pot and I’ve readied the candles just in case.
Outside? The rain goes on. Washing away noise, fatigue, and hustle of day just ended. The wind escorts it, blowing trees and electric wires, wanting to be the only sound everyone could hear.
Inside? You are here. Here inside me. My heart had been soaked by you even while inside the comforts of this room. Moments like these add to its wetness, as I bend down to your thighs and grasp a handful of you in an easy grip. Pillows and blankets provide steady support, and we stay this way a small forever, my other hand pressing your head ever closer to me.
Our kisses come together so often, as if one pair of lips cannot canvas the other quite enough. They interrupt whatever else our mouths are doing, speaking, tasting, sighing, breathing. Have I been kissed so often? Never. And it is never enough. The taste of you is not like anything a man like me can describe, for it is different every time.
It’s about eleven thirty now, nearly everybody’s gone to bed. You fell asleep some time ago. I’m not sure when because I dozed off a bit myself and now your head is heavy on my chest while your hands are clasped prayer-like down between my legs. The sweet sweat of contentment is everywhere. Outside’s cold couldn’t penetrate our warmth. The last words you said as you were drifting off were “I love you,” you never forget to say it, in my ear or on the telephone just before the disconnect.
How can I not love you while you go on reminding me of how you care? I am not too old to be spoiled and I feel as though I’ve never been this wanted, needed, ever. Ah to be necessary to some necessary one. It is as if the weight of all the years without love has been carried off or never was. To after all this time discover, come upon the reason, the because for living. And oh, the motive to live on and on, the grounds for taking all the roads ahead as far as they will go.
Could I, can I love you more? Oh yes I can. I never had this much capacity for caring any time before. Prior to loving you I loved and never dreamed I was rehearsing for the main event. I make no apologies for lovers had or wanted. Look where loving led me. Look at where it leads us now.
In front lies everything. Watch us tear through earth and heaven up ahead. We’ll cough out every devil that would bedevil us and spit up all hells that try to come between us. I love you. You know how is that. The invincibility of that phrase when it comes out of truth is from a third strand.
I love you. I love saying it to you and need not ever need to hear it back. The rain’s a barrier. A good excuse for going out, a better one for staying home.
Baby
Raymund's Random Insights
Rain’s a good excuse for everything.
Rain is only rain to some, but an experience for lovers.
Love is better being done than talked about.
Poem of the Week
SLEEPING TIME
SLEEPING TIME
by Raymund Tamayo
I remember you years before
so timid
when I wanted you.
so trusting
so tender
so unsure
it's different now
when the lights go out
hands find their way
lips know where
hips know how
love is a funny shape
at least mine is
it lies next to you every night
and when it wants you
it signals ever so silently
if this is love... then I love you
if it is not... then I am glad
for there are so many other reasons
to love you
(April 2007)
- from “Midnight Musings and Blanket Kisses”, 2007 poetry book by Raymund Tamayo
AND FINALLY
Summer is coming... but a little rain here and there won't hurt. Sleep warm and take care always.
Thanks for stopping by - see you when I see you.
I remember you years before
so timid
when I wanted you.
so trusting
so tender
so unsure
it's different now
when the lights go out
hands find their way
lips know where
hips know how
love is a funny shape
at least mine is
it lies next to you every night
and when it wants you
it signals ever so silently
if this is love... then I love you
if it is not... then I am glad
for there are so many other reasons
to love you
(April 2007)
- from “Midnight Musings and Blanket Kisses”, 2007 poetry book by Raymund Tamayo
AND FINALLY
Summer is coming... but a little rain here and there won't hurt. Sleep warm and take care always.
Thanks for stopping by - see you when I see you.
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