I recently discovered some old love letters, I estimate that some of them date back as much as 40 years. Here are some snippets from a few of them$\ldots$
We share so many little memories that never fade, persisting over long periods of time without changing. My love for you is how they all combine into a beautiful whole that is so much more than any of them individually. I treasure these, holding on to them as if trying to prevent anyone else from taking them away.
When I'm not with you I sometimes think about undressing you, dismantling your clothing one thread at a time so that it lasts much longer before I have to return to my day. Your natural beauty is so bright and colourful I feel overwhelmed. It's as if you shower me with arrows and play my heart-strings like a violin, tying me up in knots.
It's like I have a hunger for you, to know more about you, to fathom how you can possibly be so incredible. The more I know you, the more I am amazed by the intricacies of your beauty and character. This admiration only whets my desire further.
Who wrote these?
Update: Over the weekend, I went through some more papers from the same box. Most were boring but there also was another love letter. I've included a snippet from it below. Further, I noticed that some of the words were underlined in a different pen which had almost faded away, and I've added emphasis to those words in the snippets above and below.
Without you, I cannot see. It's as if I've never seen. I continue about my business, wishing you were with me, but really I'm just marking time. Creating new ways to count the seconds until I will see you once again.
I found another one$\ldots$
Before we met, my life felt like I was trudging up an infinite mountain. Step after step; hand-hold after foot-hold; toward a summit I wasn't sure was even there. But on the day I met you, I knew I had indeed reached the summit. I thought about it when I got home and realised how unlikely our meeting was, how if any one of a million little things was different then it never would have happened, and that's how I knew.