Long are the hours that distance our next sweet kiss. Great is the distance between our hands, and the touch of your skin. But, distance tests not the strength of men's hearts, for the arms of love are not bound to the limits of how far a limb may stretch.2
In the dark hours of the night, I wonder what occupation you embark upon, to wile away your lonely hours. Many a letter has travelled to you, yet your replies find me not, regardless of my hearts beacon, pointing to Zion, that you may know where I breathe. I wonder perhaps, in my most solitary hours, whether the incandescence of your affection belongs to a new flame holder, and I weep for the chance of such a sad occurence.3
Should you leave your love, for another? This tender heart pines to know how your sweet sorrow is banished. Be it in the pressing of the lily, or the warm glow of the sun? Or, are the days of our love so dark as to make my mournful notion correct?4
Tell me, I beg of you.5
Does the voluptuous harbour of your thighs bear anchor to new sails? Does the pillow of your bosom sleep a new head in the small night hours?6
Darling, if it be so, I would have you tell me, for I cannot bear the suspicion, it places too terrible a weight upon my weary back.7
I should not leave this place, be it true, and you shall have your new Romeo. 8
Should your heart still belong to me, then it beats with the fury of Poseidon's temperance, and glows like Apollo in his prime. I pray for this, sweet Serena. I pray that your arms remain open to your love.9
If this be our last goodbye, then it is a farewell I long shall lament, for the best of my days die with our love. 10
Forever, 11
Theodore. x x x12
Luke 13
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