Made love. It was always love to me.
I haven’t heard from you in weeks now. There’s been nothing since that first letter. I keep telling myself I’ve frightened you with my rambling replies, crammed full of emotion and ink that just overflowed from the pen and spilled all over the paper, but I couldn’t contain it. I couldn’t notsay everything I did, because I’ve kept it inside for way too long, and maybe you don’t know how to respond to it.
So yeah, Phoenix. A half hour’s flight and I’ll tell you myself. Face to face, and you won’t be able to just fold me away, tuck me in the back of a day planner and forget about answering.