Love Letters From Not-So-Secret "Admirers"

To My One and Only,

You bring such radiant joy into my life. Every day, I contemplate the new ways you filter into my thoughts. It’s a constant balance between organizing my chores and thinking of new ways to show my appreciation for you. I have to admit, I’ve probably slipped up a little here and there. (Nothing major, I assure you)

But I can’t help but notice your lack of enthusiasm for my gifts. I spent weeks carefully crafting them: such meticulous work, shaping each into a perfect piece of art. I wanted you to appreciate the unique contours and swooping lines. (You’re such an inspiration)

Instead, all I witnessed were grimacing expressions and outright screams of indignation.

You’ll understand why I was taken aback.

Not to worry, though. I’m working hard on a new masterpiece. One I’m sure you’ll admire. It’s even larger and grander than the last few. I’m confident that, this time, I’ll impress you.

Love Always,

Your Devoted Ovaries

My Beloved Darling,

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.

Through all ten of your toes: tingling, itching, and prickling. And how can I forget your ten precious fingers? As they waver from numb to chilled throughout the day? Every one a delight to gaze upon.

The sweeping grace of your two legs, regardless of how often I send shooting pains down their lengths. (They’re so irresistible) A match to the complement of your stretching arms. I could wrap them in the biting sting of barbed wire, then cushion them in the burning heat of the sun’s rays.

And the multitudinous strands of hair upon your head! I dream of plucking at each one, adding an impossible weight to the ends so it drags against your gorgeous neck.

You are a work of perfection, and I take pride in cataloging all of your flawlessness every day.

Forever Yours,

Your Delighted Nervous System

My Angel,

Your patience knows no bounds. And I admire you for it.

I understand that I am not the easiest to live with. Indeed, you are a saint for attempting to do so. There are no words to convey my appreciation for your attempts to understand my changing moods and whims. (I have no intentions of improving, so your love and caring are doubly appreciated)

Watching you turn yourself inside out in a frantic endeavor to please me is a thing of beauty. Hours and hours spent in careful thought and planning. And not so much as a tear shed when I throw my unavoidable tantrum. (Well, I suppose you must cry. I can’t be bothered to pay attention in the middle of my performance)

So much attention lauded upon me throughout the day. You have gone out of your way to make me feel important and wanted in your life. It’s almost enough to make me consider behaving.

Perhaps for a day.

Well, maybe a single meal.

I Love You So Much,

Your Admiring Stomach

Sweetheart,

My endless hours with you are a wonder. The moment we part, I find myself yearning to see you once again. My fingers ache to delve into the delicate tissues of your brain, and I cannot help the need to squeeze, twist, and poke that yielding grey matter until you’re tearing in pain.

And you prepare such an inviting welcome for me! It’s the perfect romantic setting: dim lights, absolute silence, and the clammy touch of a cold pack slathered across the eyes and neck. Simply thinking of them makes me want to be in the pounding embrace of your skull.

I long to hear the whimpers as I project a fantasy of lights across the inner membranes of your eyes. (Such a kaleidoscope of color!) The uncertainty that you’re losing your mind is a delightful nectar shared between us.

I know that even the thought of my presence makes the ache collect at the base of your neck. Know that I am anticipating our next meeting just as much.

I’m Waiting,

Your Beloved Migraine