Dear Ian,

 

Why is it…

That every time I hear that word

I think of you

The three lettered sound

That others can own

But when I hear it

Only you do

 

Why do I love you?

Is it the chocolate of your eyes?

The curve of your nose?

The perk of your smile?

You torture me…

 

And when I hear of you

I return to you swiftly

And when I do not

I await you

Eagerly…

 

Like a dog for his owner

Like a wife for her soldier

Like a loner for their lover

What else is there to do?

 

Why do I love you?

Is it the deep of your voice?

The choice of your words?

The style of your clothes?

You torture me…

 

And if you find her

I cannot help but be happy

But that joy hides

Behind a truth so painful

I must never show to you

 

Because her should be I

Or I hope it would be

For I do not know

But desire is not always truth

You torture me…

 

With love,

Ashley