by Jen


I've always known how to control my feelings. Telling how I feel is hard. I can talk good shit, fucking blue streaks, but you never let me off that easy. I wanted to shrivel up and die, and there you were, so warm. I never had anyone who ever gave two shits about me. Except Cyril.

I knew I loved you after you stood up to the cocksucker, let me finish my chemo in the infirmary. I knew you loved me too. I waited so long, but I never let the doubts take over. Every time I started to, you sent me a signal, and I remembered all over again. I never blamed you for taking your time, I'm not a prince, or fucking Preston Nathan.

I've really fucked up our lives, all three of us. Sometimes I look at Cyril, I don't know why he's here, I don't know what I did to him. I have no regrets. High price, but don't even try telling me the cost wasn't worth it.

At the priest's knee, I learned about penance and suffering. I was cocky enough to think I'd done all my suffering as a kid. But the suffering never ends. Never. You of all people know that. The pain brought us together. The pain is the love. It's this impossible, fucking huge force that goes wherever we do. If I'm all alone, 100 years old, not even able to talk or take a dump, I'll have the memory of your mocha skin, your almond eyes, your voice going from whisper to monotone in the blink of an eye, your soft hands, your curves. The woman I love.

I'm in your bed every night, whispering, watching while you sleep, while you touch yourself. I want to kiss you, run my fingers over your body, be inside you. This place, it keeps us apart, nothing should keep us apart.

This is probably the longest fucking valentine ever written. Two red hearts. Our hearts, joined together.

Know that, even now when so much of my life is complete shit, you make the days bearable. I'd die for our love. I feel like parts of me already have. Thank Christ for that other feeling, like I was born only to be the man Gloria Nathan loves.

Happy Valentine's Day.

All for you Gloria. All for you.