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September 24, 2012
11:38p.m. (When I started typing it out)
Dear ,
I haven’t told you this, but I love seeing you. I getexcited every time. I love seeing you standing there. I love seeing what youare wearing (my style is so whack and generic, while yours is authenticmade). I love seeing you walk over andsmile. I love the slightest movement of your arms and how your hair moves. I findit sexy, I find you so sexy. I find it sexy how independent you are and how youdon’t need me or anyone, but I wonder, how much of it is an act? We are allalready alone as it is. No matter how close we get with anyone, we still haveto be somewhat alone. Why add to it? I don’t want a title. I don’t need one. Ijust want to hear you, to feel you, and to be able to look at you.
Every action is unique, re-invented and destroyed in thesame moment. Every time you look at me. Every time I hold your hand. Every timeyou smile. Every time we kiss. Every kiss is to re-invent, something weinvented, never to be copied or repeated, fresh and new every time. It’ssomething that only we will share. (lol) Literally a cosmic kiss that echoesforever, distinct from all others. The beauty is that we lose it at the sametime. We destroy it. It moves on. Maybe that’s what those funny sounds mean,but we can always re-invent another one, never the same, but still just asamazing. I don’t know where this is going and I don’t know many things, in factI sometimes feel as if I know nothing, but for some reason I know I want tore-invent a new kiss, a new look, a new everything with you.
I don’t want my death to say anything my life didn’t alreadysay. So, I wanted to tell you this now. In my head this sounds good (lol), notsure. It’s interesting.
Sincerely,
Kevin Contento
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