Lit Love Letters

[37_ttej]

Dearest Tarquin,


The candlelight flickers upon this parchment, casting its golden glow much as your presence casts light upon the chambers of my heart. Each stroke of the quill draws me closer to the thought of you, though no ink nor word can truly capture the depth of my affection.


Tarquin, your name is a melody that lingers in the quietest corners of my mind, as though whispered by the very winds that rustle through the heather-clad hills. Your visage, so noble and fair, is etched into my soul as a portrait painted by the hand of Providence itself.


Each day without you is a season of winter, barren and unyielding, yet your mere thought thaws the frost and beckons springtime to blossom in my spirit. I long for the solace of your voice, the kindness of your gaze, and the unspoken promise that lingers in your every gesture.


Were I to possess the stars themselves, they could not compare to the brilliance of your eyes. The finest rose of the garden pales before the grace of your presence, and the sweetest hymn falters beside the harmony of your laughter.


Do you feel it too, this invisible thread that binds us? It is as though our hearts were woven together by fate’s delicate hand, destined to beat as one amidst the tapestry of life’s grand design.


Should this letter reach you, my darling Tarquin, let it be a vessel of my sincerest adoration. May its words carry the warmth of my love across the miles, until such a time as I may stand before you and speak them aloud.


Ever yours,

Wand3r

By my troth, woman, thou art a wordy wench!
The most estimable Tarquin has likely aged beyond ken ere he reached the end of your epistolary declaration, notwithstanding the fortitude he is possessed of as the due of his Etruscan heritage.
So, here is wisdom, my dear @Wand3rlust .
The way to a man's heart (and thy Tarquin is more than such, as thou knowest) is through his loins.
Satisfy his appetite and his soul will be knit closer to thine than the bodice to thy bosom.

Yours always &c.

Jett

 

[Nicefella]

Dearest Mrs Trudeau:

As I gaze through the bars and over the meadow outside, I am continually reminded of your sultry blossoming essence. It timbers my loins to recall such a carefree time.

My thoughts of you are only limited by this rust-laden nib which needs more ink to course through. Nary a fret, my lady: The Revolution is upon us, and soon independence, victory, and your pudendum shall be mine to savor.

Yours truly,
Don Quixote

 

[OldDirtyAltGuy]

My Dearest Amelia

Release the fires that are buried deep within you. Unburden your soul for I am here to bring you joy.

Do not quench the thirst you have for me for I am yours and you are truly mine.

Your chasity is mine for the taking. Prepare yourself, for I will be there on the 'morrow.

Devoted to you only,

Sir Alfred