[Letters Never Sent] To Ramon
Ramon~
I don't normally sit down to write letters, but I had some things I just wanted to get down. I know I'm not good at expressing myself in person. My emotions get all tangled up and the words just don't come out right.
I'm confused. I don't understand what you want from me.
In the beginning, I thought you just wanted a good time. A party girl. It's why I said no for a long time. I don't do party girl outside of assignments. But the very first time we talked, you asked me how you could get me to trust you. I told you, either it happened or it didn't. I didn't trust you. I have a hard time trusting anyone. You of all people should understand that.
For the longest time, I thought the only reason you respected me was because you were afraid of what I'd do if you didn't. (I think I threatened you with grievous bodily harm if you so much as looked at me wrong, but I do that to all the guys who think I'm just another pretty face.)
But then we went out. And you kissed me in the median of the freeway. You didn't grope, you didn't take advantage the first time you got me alone (I half expected you to), you didn't do anything but treat me like a lady. You didn't assume I was arm candy. You looked me in the eye and you talked to me, not to my tits. And that kiss...
You scared the hell out of me. Because I wanted you. I wanted more of that attention, more of that -- fuck. More of you.
From the beginning, the things coming out of your mouth and the things you were doing with your hands were in two different languages. You'd talk about sex, like it was just a mechanical thing. 'Ride it, suck it, put it in.' Like that bit of flesh wasn't attached to the rest of you. But it felt like the first lie, because when you touched me, when you kissed me....
See, I can't even put it into words. I just don't know how. I've had plenty of men. After Michael left, the first time, I went through a string of them, trying them all out for size. And you just --
Just the way you look at me messes me up more than anything. It's hard to think straight when I think about that look.
That day when I took you to the warehouse. I just needed cheering up. Do you remember that day? I do. I remember being wrapped around you, I remember having you deep inside me. I remember you holding me while I shook. I remember you making love to me in that cramped little bed. You got under my skin that day. In ways I never thought possible. Every time you touched me that day, it felt like love in your hands.
And every time since then.
And in the stables, where you told me you thought I couldn't love you because of how I felt about Michael, I thought my heart couldn't hurt anymore. I'd already dared to let myself believe and you -- I know, you're probably not even reading this anymore.
Just let me tell you this one thing: I have never felt more loved in my life than I did that moment in the stables when you put your arms around me and kissed me.
I love you. I don't care if you don't say it back. I feel it when you touch me. I see it in your eyes.
I know how you feel about me.
Words don't really matter.
I don't normally sit down to write letters, but I had some things I just wanted to get down. I know I'm not good at expressing myself in person. My emotions get all tangled up and the words just don't come out right.
I'm confused. I don't understand what you want from me.
In the beginning, I thought you just wanted a good time. A party girl. It's why I said no for a long time. I don't do party girl outside of assignments. But the very first time we talked, you asked me how you could get me to trust you. I told you, either it happened or it didn't. I didn't trust you. I have a hard time trusting anyone. You of all people should understand that.
For the longest time, I thought the only reason you respected me was because you were afraid of what I'd do if you didn't. (I think I threatened you with grievous bodily harm if you so much as looked at me wrong, but I do that to all the guys who think I'm just another pretty face.)
But then we went out. And you kissed me in the median of the freeway. You didn't grope, you didn't take advantage the first time you got me alone (I half expected you to), you didn't do anything but treat me like a lady. You didn't assume I was arm candy. You looked me in the eye and you talked to me, not to my tits. And that kiss...
You scared the hell out of me. Because I wanted you. I wanted more of that attention, more of that -- fuck. More of you.
From the beginning, the things coming out of your mouth and the things you were doing with your hands were in two different languages. You'd talk about sex, like it was just a mechanical thing. 'Ride it, suck it, put it in.' Like that bit of flesh wasn't attached to the rest of you. But it felt like the first lie, because when you touched me, when you kissed me....
See, I can't even put it into words. I just don't know how. I've had plenty of men. After Michael left, the first time, I went through a string of them, trying them all out for size. And you just --
Just the way you look at me messes me up more than anything. It's hard to think straight when I think about that look.
That day when I took you to the warehouse. I just needed cheering up. Do you remember that day? I do. I remember being wrapped around you, I remember having you deep inside me. I remember you holding me while I shook. I remember you making love to me in that cramped little bed. You got under my skin that day. In ways I never thought possible. Every time you touched me that day, it felt like love in your hands.
And every time since then.
And in the stables, where you told me you thought I couldn't love you because of how I felt about Michael, I thought my heart couldn't hurt anymore. I'd already dared to let myself believe and you -- I know, you're probably not even reading this anymore.
Just let me tell you this one thing: I have never felt more loved in my life than I did that moment in the stables when you put your arms around me and kissed me.
I love you. I don't care if you don't say it back. I feel it when you touch me. I see it in your eyes.
I know how you feel about me.
Words don't really matter.