Rory said I’d have to start my own thread if I wanted one of these.
Okay, Rory, do your thing! Make my knees go weak.
Now I’m on Rory’s shitlist.
Homepage: www.idreamofjeannie.com
Occupation:Wish granting
Location: I’m still stuck in this damn bottle in Cocoa Beach, Fla.
Interests: Getting Major Nelson in trouble, getting Major Nelson out of trouble
–Custom profile courtesy of UncleBeer
I never hate myself in the morning. I sleep till noon.
–Custom sig line courtesy of Wally
Jeannie,
Each time I let the delicate sound of your name roll of my tongue into the sweet ether of love where it shall be forever immortalized, I think only of the soft caress of your voice that I long for each day of my existence. When I rise in the morn, my vision is trapped in a dream like state, in which you and only you can I see. Mine eyes hath seen the glory of your loving visage, come down from heaven only to torment me with its absence.
If truly you are a genie in a bottle, may I set you free? If not, grant me the strength to resist the desire which burns in my breast at each mention of your moniker. Confer upon me but one simple wish: that if I may not hold you for eternity, that I may be thrown from this world and ne’er set eyes upon the unending loss I will know, as no other has ever known.
Dear god, if ever I had seen true beauty, I know now it would pale in comparison to your image. I may not let the fates tempt me, I must depart forever from this world. Farewell.
Falcon,
I once was lonely, and wasted days in thinking of the one true love who would come to me. Amidst a flutter of feathers and a fury of fervour you alighted into my life, and I will forget you ne’er. Your slight figure and delicate beauty has bewitched me far more passionately than I could ever have imagined. Ne’er again shall I float endlessly in a stream of solitude.
You have freed me as only the gift of flight otherwise could. I may now soar delightedly in the wide open spaces of your affection and feel upon my soul the lightness of being that only comes from the love of an avian.
Boscibo,
You ravaged my heart like a wild beast when you galloped into my life. Your wild, feverous love made me forget everything and want to run with you in the plains of forever.
Now, whenever I look out a window, and gaze upon the wind rustling the grass, I see your name, your spirit, calling me, summoning every animal desire within me. I fear I will not survive much longer in this form. Without the gentle caress of your embrace, I will slough the restraints of society and flee, with you, into eternity.
Funny you should mention that, soul. I actually just finished reading Cyrano in the original french. I hope it didn’t sound like I was plagiarising. If someone wants their letter in the language of love, lemme know.
ROO
I haven’t forgotten you… In fact, I went to your website the other day to research. I’m trying to give you the best I can do.
I’ve been really busy lately… your time will come. Worry not.
Dearest Megan,
Long have I waited, and you, for this moment of pure bliss. Now has our trial ended, and we may be together, for eternity. Each closing of my eyes brings a new fabulous vision of our forms locked in sweet embrace, never-ending, everlasting.
O! Curse the fates that have kept us distant so long. If man defines himself by suffering then truly have I lived for I have endured long the unique pain of the purest of unrequited loves.
Destiny awaits us, as we share a life, an existence, a soul, together. With each passing breath, I know that our unity draws nearer, and fair fate brings us closer together, and yet the passing of time brings weakness to my hand, that I may no longer caress thy sweet visage, and brings a close to my eyes that I may not gaze longingly into your eyes like perfect stars in the heavens.
And yet no destiny could be so cruel as to separate us after this life is over, nay! I feel as though we have known each others spirits for eternity, and so shall be reunited in the next life, and I say paradise cannot be found in a distant, surreal land, but in any world which contains you.
Thou fair as a fountain to a man dying of thirst; shining like the sun in the desert, without cloud or vapour to obscure it’s brilliance. My lips burn for the touch of yours. I can await no longer.
Ever,
Rory
