The art of desire: A love letter from the Edge

I want your attention. I suppose every romantic letter should start with a “hello my love,” or some other love struck feminine bullshit.

 I must be bold but not too sexual but I am a strong independent woman. But not too independent for you to start thinking you are not the center of my universe. 

This is much more than a fixation. It is not because I have attachment issues. I am not clingy I am strong enough to accept you with your imperfections. Strong, not muscular of course. I am delicate like the glass on your night stand. Petite just to fit you but still strong. 

How strong you might wonder? I broke a jaw breaker. I made the onions cry. I bend the world to my will. But of course not in a manly way. My skin is as soft as a feather. My voice is husky and I will always be soft spoken.Silk hair and plum lips. Perfect tits and an ass that won't quit.

I lurk and gawk at you from afar like a masterpiece worth being admired. They say a lady should never raise her voice but i will scream your name to heavens if it means you’ll look my way. 

This is not a mere obsession or an infatuation. It is not because my dad didn't love me enough. But I want your attention.I imagine you caressing my face. I will make it smoother than a virgin’s thigh.

I am a woman going after what I desire with my unhealthy impulses. But not in an emotional way where you automatically assume it's that time of month and my panties are like a scene from the house that jack built at the moment. 

I am bold and I am brave but I must not be too brave or too bold. That is unfeminine. I am for your saving. Save me! Fix me! Pick me! And I can make you happy. As happy as a teenager who discovered playing with himself. As happy as any man discovering the Clitoris.

Forgive my vulgar words but I am honest. But I shouldn't be too honest, that is too arbitrary for a lady. A quality she must not possess. I should play nice and pretty stupid. 

I must smell nice and keep up appearances. I must be chased, pursued and conquered. But prey, do tell; doesn't it drive you wild to be desired and hunted? Oh but I am a woman, you are the one that is allowed to say such predatory sentences and I will bite my lips so as not to moan. With such words I will feel a shiver down my spine. 

I can fix you with my maternal nurturing love and never ending care. I envy the pillow that carries your head. I envy the sheets that wrap around your waist but no, envy does not look good on a lady. And I must not be aggressive.

I am yours to use but I must not sound too desperate or like a pick me girl. I must be cool and goofy and somewhat intelligent but of course not intelligent enough for you to doubt your masculinity. If my smart mouth runs wild instead of being wide open when needed and closed shut most of the the time, then it goes wrong and I lose my charm.

 I am told I am a humble bragger but I promise I am just self aware. I am willing to kill the very thing that makes me who I am, all for you.Then imagine what would be left? Dare to dream what would be born anew?

A new specimen made just to fit you. Will you love the new me, the one forged in the fires of your desire? Or will the cost be too high, the echoes of who I was haunting us both?

For in the end, my darling, every love story is a tragedy waiting to unfold, and I am ready to write ours.

So, my love, I’ll remain here, outside your window, waiting for the moment you open it wide and let me in.

I must sound crazy. Women are crazy but of course the cute kind of crazy not the unhinged maniac type.

Death is an option and a possible beginning to something new. Kill your darlings to create a masterpiece.

My darling, I wish you health for the little time you have left. For I am the writer who must kill my darling. A love like this comes with a price. A love this intense costs one's life.

PS: Blue is not really your color. I have taken the liberty of getting rid of your blue shirts for you.

With all my love, 

From the girl outside your window.