LOVE HURTS, Love Email, 3

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LOVE HURTS,
Love Email, 3

Dearest Etta,


I got off the telephone with you about an hour or so ago, and once again a flood of memories and feelings beset me. Our long distance and our long time apart may be the end of me. Poor me! Poor me! Honest, it is very hard for me to pretend I am grown up, a man about this whole separation business. I feel alone. I am more like a child. I suffer terrible separation anxiety. Right this moment I want to scream aloud, and, if it would do me any good at all, I would. I would scream aloud in pain.


Also, I am having a physical reaction. Juices are being released in my stomach, which never happens to me even when I am hungry. This is not just my imagination. No! I am physically afflicted. Longing for you, just to be near to you, causes me ache even in my forearms. My elbows hurt. I swear I feel the ache of this profound longing even in the calves of my legs, in my knee caps. I know you believe me to be exaggerating, but it's true, darling. It is true! I am now in the middle of some devil angst.

Last night I had another bad spell, very bad. I felt an exhaustion overcome me. I lay down in the bed right off my office area, and almost curled up in a ball. I was in the fetal position. I began to swoon. If only I could come up against you. I need only your body warmth. I need only to be up over and against you.

Playing on the TV set at the bottom of the bed was a PBS special, which now had a segment about the Warsaw Ghetto. I did not actually see the video portion, but the mournful sounds, oh, the so sad background music, matched my interior mood. How's that for big-time sacrilege, down right sinful! It is a terrible comparison, I know. I have no right making it. But I try to portray the mood, the dark-cloud mood over me. My pain over missing you tied to the agony of tens of thousands souls living in Hell and then about to be transported to an absolute Hell. Now you know, sweet heart! Now you know! Now you have a glimpse of the pain I am in. I am truly a lost soul.

Yours, S.

TIME FLIES, Love Email 1

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TIME FLIES,
Love Email 1

Darling Etta,Hello! Darling, Hello,
You left this morning. Yet it seems so long ago. I now live in the memory of our time together. I love the way you walk, the way you bustle along. I wonder how such a beauteous bottom creates so great a propulsion! I marvel at your ever-so-delicate ears, which I for the first time touched this morning of departure. I regret I had not used them to whisper the extent of my desire and devotion.

I wish I had spent sometime kissing the back of your neck. I am glad that I had told you true that no one, ever, has so rapidly laid siege and then captured my heart.

Here's some verse I recited on the way home during our second Thursday date (just as we exited the Lincoln Tunnel and wended our way toward the West Village). It’s not mine rather it belongs to Ernest Dowson.

Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
Within a dream.

[Though widely published under the title Vitae summa brevis, etc., it seems from the typography in the copy text that this poem is in fact untitled, the Latin inscription having the appearance of being an epigraph.]

I remain yours,

S…

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