A Note from Jen

Dear Friends,

Scattered Love Letters has been voicing true love for eight months now. It’s time to give thanks. Readers and followers, thank you for taking this journey with us. Isn’t it wonderful to wake up to a love letter in your inbox? One beautiful letter after the next has been submitted. Writers, we couldn’t pull this off without you. You’ve shared traditional love letters from spouses and lovers, fresh poetry, altruistic notes between mothers and daughters, eulogies for a father gone too soon, a special boss, and another for a beloved cat. You’ve celebrated milestone wedding anniversaries and new love with us. Talented authors have written and submitted love letters on behalf of their favorite characters. We love the way you love, the way you write, and your willingness to help us scatter love across space and time.

Cliff, a heartfelt thank you for letting me take part in Scattered Love Letters. You’re not only a visionary, you’re the greatest thing since, well, love!

A special woman reached out to me recently. We’d been friends once upon a time, nearly sisters. Grief and loss brought us together in unimaginable ways years ago, and I was saddened to hear she’s suffered yet another loss. The first loss came with the death of her true love. Not all love is meant to last, but this second loss was sinister and cruel. Sometimes love isn’t what we think it is. Sometimes people are not who they pretend to be. In this modern age of online relationships, we need to be extra careful. T, I’m here for you. We all are.

In the words of Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.

Thank you again, dear friends. Please continue to share your love! Send your love letters to jenandcliff@scatteredloveletters.com for publication on scatteredloveletters.com.

Fondly,
Jen

Lovesick

Fated to shadows
like ghosts in the night
longing for bodies
glimpsing at life
lost in oddity
dreaming of place

Defined by
screens
in our scrolling hands
rings
on our swollen fingers

Bound by
fragments of sentiments
blue light, white noise,
moonlit promises

Reflections of
lovesickness
love
sickness

Our fairy tale
turned Grimm
and died with Halloween

My bones look good
against yours

The Sound of It

My Dearest,

I just like the sound of it.

You and me…

Enjoying a gentle walk on a cool fall afternoon; then returning home to carve the face of a jack-o’-lantern into a pumpkin you grew in your garden.

You and me…

Sitting on the tailgate of a Dodge Ram laughing while enjoying cucumber sandwiches, carrots, and ice-cold lemonade.

You and me…

Listening to your playlist and wondering why yours is always better than mine.

I just like the sound of it.

You and me…

Sitting in a swing, pushing off the porch floor with bare toes and soaring through the air like children at the park.

You and me…

Lying on a blanket looking up at the night sky wondering what we should call the stars while making wishes we feel sure will come true.

You and me…

Holding hands and kissing at the close of a never-been-better kind of day.

I just like the sound it, the sound of thoughts I have about you.

Always,

IMV

– Random thoughts listening to Trap Land by Yellow Claw

The Red Glow of Mars

My darling, my darling. Dusk is here, why aren’t you? The daisies I picked this morning are losing their petals to the heat. Each fallen petal sings and then weeps, “He loves me … He loves me not.” Venus shines brightly in the western sky. Mars is to the southeast, clocking its way toward Venus. They make such a lovely pair. It’s too bad Earth stands between them, but perhaps they’ll get close enough to share a kiss tonight.

Before dusk gives way to night I gather bergamot leaves and rose petals, grind them, and sprinkle the powder into one of the clam shells we found on the quiet shores of the bay. I add several drops of cedarwood oil and a teaspoon of clover honey. I take a flaming match to the mixture, creating the incense of you and me. The scent of ‘us’ fills the room.

I tug at a red satin ribbon tied neatly around a wooden keepsake box. As the ribbon slides off, I lift the lid and pull out your last letter. Your handwriting is inviting, but I don’t read your words. There’s no need, I know what the letter says. I’ve read it a hundred times. You love me. You want me. All of your thoughts circle back to me. You ended with, “Look for the red glow of Mars. Find my presence there.”

The turntable plays one of our many songs. It’s a sad yet beautiful tune.

I sway and turn with the music and find you standing there, extending your arm. Your pointed gaze hits the center of my soul. My eyes mirror your intensity, but my nervous laughter gives me away. Are you real or just a dream? Perhaps you’re nothing more than a haunting memory. I fear I’m losing touch with reality.

You take my hand. My troubles begin to melt away. Soon, I’m lost in your arms and nothing matters except for us. Time pauses. The night is young and so are we.

“I’ve made up my mind,” I say. “It’s here, dancing with my soulmate, that I want to stay.” It feels good to say it out loud. “Stay with me. Forever.”

Your lips brush against mine. This is my reality. You. You are my reality. The decision has been made.

The record skips. It’s stuck on the saddest part of the song.

“Don’t go.” My plea is too late. You’re already gone. I begin to wonder whether or not you were ever here, but Mars’s steady red glow assures me that you were.