For what it’s worth

In September 2020 we picniced on Hampstead Heath and I fell under your spell. You took me in your arms and I've wanted to be there ever since, despite some rocky times over the past year or so, together and apart. 

I remember wandering along the path by the boating pond in the dusk on that hot sunny eve, and seeing LOCKDOWNLOVESTORIES.COM chalked on the ground. I felt as if I was dreaming: could this be the beginning of a lovkdownlovestory I thought, when I hadn't felt this way about anyone for so long?

'I see you as a fountain of hope,' you texted me soon after. I felt the same about you. Still do.

I wish I could seamlessly switch now to being your friend instead of wanting to be your lover (god knows I would love you to go on being part of my life) but I need some space before I can honestly be that way - and at present it feels like I will need a lot of space - in order to separate myself from my desire and honestly meet you as no more than a friend. 

Meanwhile I think of you a lot - and of those morphically resonant times when we thought about one another and emailed in the same moment. 

Meanwhile I send you my love, for what it's worth.