Yours Truly (Petekey)

Letter #2

Pete,

I hope you don't mind my boldness in the decision to call you by the nickname you once introduced to me, I cannot help myself but think of you as Pete and not Peter. You must forgive me and, in turn, call me Mikey. Without those names I fear, I cannot convince myself that the feelings I have for you are reciprocated.

Please, Pete, do not excuse the conditions in which I receive your letter. The paper it is written on, matters not to me as much as the words that are scrawled over it and the ink those words written in, concerns me not as long as you are the one who wrote them.

However, you must forgive my lack of response for I have surely kept you waiting for far too long. The words to write here, I am afraid, have chased the sleep from me and left me dazed for long periods of time. You must understand one thing, Pete, do not ever call me magnificent when you yourself were created when god decided to make Angel's jealous.

There is no need for you to thank me for extending the invitation to Romeo and Juliet as I must admit it was partly Kirsten's idea, and partly the idea of my own jealous inflictions. The simple idea that you may have chosen him over me inspired a peacock-like display of all the reason I am better for you.

Though, I am glad that it has you in spirits high enough to formally thank me. It doth make me very happy to hear you have enjoyed yourself at my expense. It doth also bring me great relief that the feelings you for me by far exceed the feelings you have for Patrick. I must admit, it gives me a sadistic kind of pleasure to know that I have topped him in the race for your affection.

I regret not having spoken to you since then, or of the events that transpired on the walk home. And now that I have the chance to fully relate to you why or how, I have the unfortunate symptom of being defenceless. I have no explanation for my actions other than this, and I have no logical argument with which to support the explanation.

But I think, dear Pete, tailor's son, Romeo, holder of my deepest affections, that I may have risked my vulnerability and my pride in my ridiculous display of falling in love with you. I hope you are not taken aback by my outright, forward approach to this but I see no reason to pretend as though I do not feel the magic you introduce to every social situation.

I find myself, dear Romeo, in desperate bargains with the devil for a way in which I may escape this life into one where I may hold you and kiss you and love you in broad daylight. You needn't worry about your letter being discarded, as I will keep it quite safely in the drawer of my desk.

In this drawer my love for you may live on for eternity, even if we are separated and are never able to reach our mutual affection once more. I must confess, my Romeo, I had not thought that this fondness that I had for you would extend so far as to even invade my peaceful sleep. In the sweetest of dreams, I wish only to consume you, but even in the darkest of dreams, I wish only for my prince to rescue me.

I am glad to hear you are enjoying the copy of Byron that I have gifted you, I was not sure whether you had read it or not and not having read it in it's entirety, I must admit that I was not fully confident that you would find yourself within it's pages. But I am thankful that you have.

Because although the book was intended as a peace offering, now, I find myself considering it as though it was a physical representation of my romantic pursuit of you. Which, may I add, will continue for many lives to come, for I cannot imagine living in a world where I may not hold you.

Did I ever tell you, my Romeo, how obsessed I am with touching you? How often I think of running my hands over you dark skin and memorizing every part of you? I think it's time you learn of this intimate desire I have to touch you – to touch the entirety of your body, to run my hands down smooth skin, to hesitate over every part of your wild geography.

I do not mean to be so blunt but, Romeo, I long and desire for the feeling of your skin against mine. I know that it would be inappropriate to write these words to a lady who I am courting. Thank god you are not a lady.

You must forgive me for being quite so content with confusing you, because confusing you means that I may leave you with a puzzle. And I know that no decent man such as yourself could possibly leave a puzzle unsolved. Forgive my selfish intentions, of keeping you confused until you have fallen in love with me and you cannot escape.

I wish to write sonnets of your beauty, Romeo, I wish for Shakespeare to see you so that he may write plays in the honour of your spirit. I wish that you were able to see the beauty that I see in your very eyes when you look at me as if I am a country in need of a revolution, and you are the perfect person to give it to me. Give it to me, Romeo, I beg of you.

I suppose that now I must move on from including my romantic, albeit physical, thoughts of you to address your questions of Kirsten's birthday ball. I had briefly considered your arrival at Kirsten's ball that night, yes, but I had quickly dismissed it as I could find no logical basis for why you would. Now that I know how you feel about me it is not quite so difficult to imagine your reasons.

In regards to the words, "Found you" that had crossed my lips, Romeo you must understand that Kirsten is the closest to you that I could find in a woman. She is not good enough, she will never be good enough. You will always and forever have my heart, but you will never have my hand. For society and our positions do demand otherwise. When you approached me, I felt uneasy that you might be another suitor in the race for Kirsten's hand.

It is difficult to find such an amusing woman and I was afraid that another suitor may sweep her off her feet and out of reach for me to get at her.

I am happy you feel not for me the way a friend feels for a friend because what I feel for you deeply, deeply exceeds that. And although I have never had any friends of my own before, from what I can imagine, the thoughts that I have of you are not thoughts that friends should be having of friends. I dream not that friends which to hold friends, to love friends, to kiss them under the moonlight.

But the feelings that I have for you are feelings that I cannot express in public and I admit I am the tiniest bit upset at you for making me feel this way as well as society for making these feelings a cage in which to lock me away from you. I long to never be away from you again, my Romeo. I long to have you with me at every waking moment.

And it is as such that I beg of you, with the entirety of my heart, to meet with me once more so that I may purge thine lips of sin with a kiss. Kiss me once more, Pete, kiss me one thousand times more. Kiss me and do not stop until either of us has stopped being. Bless me with the divine pleasure of your lips and tongue.

Pray, do not leave me so unsatisfied. Meet me at the lake – at our lake, the place we spent the first night of our lives together – Friday at dusk. I will be certain to arrange for food arrangements but do forgive me if the only thing I want to taste is the delicacy of your lips, my Romeo.

Yours truly,
Mikey.