My friend, My Lover,

I clearly remember when you walked out of the apartment, eyes open wide
in shock, hands clasped at once, then fists banging the walls. A dry
crying followed your silhouette through the narrow corridor to the
elevator. I tried to talk to you; I tried to hold you back, grasping at
your clothes with my knees bent, down on the floor, apologetic, sorry,
unhappy.

You were outraged. Will she ever forgive me? I thought after you left,
without committing to one possible answer or another. It didn't matter.
You hadn't come because of me; you hadn't come to prove anything, or to
demonstrate any kind of unit of spirit or soul. You hadn't come to say
you loved me. You came to my place that day because you wanted to
forget, you wanted to make your existence, and our relationship more
palatable to your needs. You did not seek commitment: You came looking
for solace for your own fears.

I'm sorry about what you saw. I loved you, and nothing could have erased
that feeling, nothing could've scratched that sentiment out of my
struggling heart. I felt lonely, and I sinned, I made a mistake. But I
loved you, my love. I loved you with all my strengths, with the fury of
a wild lion, the hope of a white dove. I wish I could have said all this
to you then. I wish you had let me.

I wondered what happened to you after that dreaded afternoon. I always
thought I would see you again, one way or another: In a casual
encounter, bumping into each other at the popcorn line at a movie
theater, in a sudden rush onto a crowded subway train, in a car when I
was crossing the street, in a bar, in a dream; if nothing else, I would
see you again in a dream.

I always nurtured that soft, cozy feeling, almost a fantasy. You would
come back one day to see me, and unknowingly I would feel your hand
gently landing on my shoulder, like a reluctant feather fighting against
the wind. And you would greet me here, at the old coffee shop, with a
smile and a few words: not many, just a few words for the silence would
have spoken a million words for us already.

It has been three years since you left, and every day during all those
years I wondered where you were; I lived in hope, in a perennial,
non-defiant state of hope. Not today. Today I will drink my coffee black
for a change, let my dreams fall down to reality, and allow the bitter
taste of everyday life seep into my blood and consume my body like a
sprawling cancer. Let my disease become my cure.

I had always been afraid that, had I given up the hope, every day would
look the same. But in the deep end of my thoughts, I realized that every
day for the past three years have also looked terribly the same. And the
expected comfort of reality became as cruel as the desolation of hope.

Why, My Friend, My Partner? Why,
Patrick
Until...

I must say that you have taken my Breath away and have touched my heart
to the soul with this letter. It has made me speechless which is very
hard to do.

WOW..very nice!!!

I thank you for the compliment, and hope that my words, gives your
heart comfort. You need to have a great weekend. You deserve it, long
overdue.
Until...

Words so deep,,feelings in the air,,thinking of how to say,,that there
is ways to be touched,,and the way it felt was real,,that was some deep
stuff there I must say,,as that now shall complete my day,,as to see how
you or the storie feels is to be in touch with the feel of words...Your
storie touch me,,and I must say,,I never heard anthing like that
b4........... Give-N-Love Always Thomas....