cracker barrel

Do you want me to write you a love letter? Put my heart on my sleeve, scribblew it on a bit of paper, hand it to you in a hasty passing moment?

I could give you my wishes and wants and dreams or desires for you, spelled out perfectly in 'the Queen's English'. Leave it for you - a note that tells you who I am and what we'll be and how we'll do all we'll do, and who will watch us when we're old? - if that is what you want from me.

Would it make you smile and hold me and love me until you die?

I could always do it, if you asked me to. I could sum up all my fears from all the years I spent without you, all my hjopes that I've collected in boxes before you, that I've since forgot to send to you. Or, if you'd rather, I could get together just the stupid things I've been accrewing in my mind, that when I'm bored, I think about you.

I could put them in a bag, tie it up and put your name on it. Then, I could leave it there. And you could find it in the morning, maybe read some of it, and (maybe) love me too.

-Rk