Mysterious stranger what have you done to me? 

You come into my life like a dream that was meant to be.

You stole every sensation from my soul. 

I can no longer think for myself, you have all control.

Though we are miles apart I feel like you hold a part of my heart. 

I don't know how I let this be. All I can think of is his arms holding me. 

To hear his voice sends chills up my spine. 

My heart can't wait to hold the Mysterious Strangers lips to mine. 

Mi bellota,

Your skull is thick, as are your hands,

Sometimes I want to take a mallet and punch some sense into you.

But you, pigna, are mi amor,

And I’ll forgive you for your idiocy.

Душа моя,

You shine brighter than any star,

Yet are like a black hole,

For forever am I drawn to you, дорого́й.

Mon coeur,

You are the space in my heart, filled,

The pieces I was missing.

je t'aime.

Note: Normally I'd apologise for my saccharine sweetness and cliches, but to hell with it.

Translations and Pronunciations:

Mi bellota- (me bay-oh-nah) my acorn

Pigna- (pee-n-ya) pine cone

Mi amor- my love

Душа моя- (couldn't find a pronuciation) my soul

дорого́й- (da-ra-góî, and it's for a guy) dear/darling

Mon coeur- (no pronunciation available) my sweet bun

je t'aime- (this one should be obvious) I love you

Dear you,

I wonder what you think of me.

I know that’s absurd—I’ve long stopped caring what people say about me. But I figured, after everything we’ve been through, that I can’t fault myself for curiosity.

Some days, I wake up feeling fine. I put on my favorite shirt (mine, not yours), buy a nice drink before work. Or, if it’s a weekend, I make brunch and hang out at the book club. I thought it’d be different going without you, but everyone’s still as nice as ever. I look fine to them, so they haven’t really brought you up except in passing. I still tense a little, but I suppose that’s to be expected.

Other times, usually when it’s raining—other times, I find myself alone in my apartment—the one you haven’t been to. I find myself thinking. If we still lived together, how would you make this tiny place your own? Would you put your souvenirs on display next to mine? I still have your seashell. If I set it next to my pen holder and squint—and this helps if it’s raining because the sky is darker, which makes everything a little blurrier—so if I put your seashell by the pen holder and tilt my head just so, I can almost imagine it.

And for a moment there, my apartments feels a tiny bit more familiar.

Is that love?

I know that unconditional love is loving someone in spite of their absurdity. I know that some people would prefer to find love in mutual flawlessness. Not me, and certainly not you. But that’s pretty much all I know. In the end, that’s how much anyone really knows how to say in words. They learn the rest through practice, through finding a home in each other.

Well, I can’t really do that anymore. So it’s just me, and my thoughts, and the afternoon rain.

It used to make me happy. Rain, I mean. You know that. Still does, in a way, but only after I’ve ripped my whole heart out. So there’s that.

Again. I wonder what you think of me. Sometimes, I want you to fondly reminisce of me like I do you. Sometimes, I want you to hate me, if only so you have the strength to move on. Romance novels would call that selfless, but to be honest on those days I don't feel anything except sorry for myself.

Other times, I want you to pine for me forever. Then I’ll see you at our bookshop that you don’t go to anymore, or maybe I’ll branch out and go to a few bars (unlikely), and we will fall into each other’s arms as we have before. This is selfish, if fun to think about; I would never want for it to happen in real life, though, because time and again the only thing I truly wish for is your happiness.

Is that love?

I don’t know.

Love,

Me

This is an effort to keep from tripping over myself, because you know me, you know I’m all thumbs with words and two left feet when dancing.

But here’s what I know. There’s no one that loves me like you.

At my clumsiest, there you are to make me balanced. And I’m fine with me not dancing, because that means there’s more time to sit and bask in your glory.

And bask I do.

You ask me why, after all these years, all these times we’ve shared each other, why do I get nervous?

It’s always new to me, you’re always new to me, and I always want it to be as good as it can be, because you’re worth the effort.

You’re worth everything to me.

I think I’m getting clumsy again, even while sitting still, so before I stumble off towards whatever comes next, here’s the last thing I want you to know.

There’s nothing I want more than to make you happy, because you make me happy.

And I don’t need fancy words and great moves to know that.

The following is a series of three different letters written to Doctor Faustus from Christopher Marlowe’s 1592 tragic play, “Doctor Faustus”, from the perspective of his wife. While the play does not explicitly mention if Faustus is married, the letters are written contextually according to the events that transpire in the play. The tone of the trilogy of letters changes from doting to doubtful to despondent according to the events that occur in the play. Characterized by the name Mrs. Faustus, the speaker in the letters is expressing both her love and her broken heart to Doctor Faustus through his decision to choose power and knowledge over his own wife.

June 1st, 1568

Wittenburg, Germany

My Dearest Dr. Faustus,

You have just departed on your most recent journey and I as your wife am so proud and honored to even have your name. You are so incredibly smart, I am in awe of your genius and talent. What other man on earth can say that he has mastered the arts and practices of academia, medicine, philosophy, and medicine? I find myself extremely lucky to be married to a man of such knowledge and esteem. Politicians praise you, kings invite you to their court, and your name is known across all the regions of the world. What woman would not want to be married to such a wonderful man? As well as the fact that you have mastered all these arts already and seek to gain even more knowledge truly amazes me. Your mind itself is a prodigy, so much so that myself and many others might deem you the most intelligent man to ever live. You undeniably have it all, and now as your lawfully wedded wife, I have the privilege of standing beside you proudly as there is nothing as two lovers that we cannot have if we so desire. From the first time I met you to our many conversations about politics, religion, and philosophy to the moment you asked for my hand in marriage, I was intrigued yet also frightened by your wisdom. Your vast level of knowledge for the things both in and out of this world are mysteriously exciting and terrifying all at the same time. There are moments where I truly believe that you can read my thoughts and might condemn me for my less intelligent understanding of the world, but you love me just the same. Your love for learning is most attractive to me, I might even say that it is your constant thirst for knowledge that made me fall in love with you. There is nothing you cannot learn and then master, and there is no obstacle you cannot overcome. In my eyes, you are not only the wisest man to live, but you are also the most powerful man as well. I am so proud to call you my husband, and I simply cannot wait for your return, however long it may be until that day comes. I hope to see you very soon, my love.

Forever and Always Yours,

The Mrs. Faustus, Your Endearing Wife.

Dear Dr. Faustus,

April 30th, 1570

Munich, Germany

I must say that I am simply dumbfounded at this time. I do not hear from you nor receive any letters from you for so many months, as it is nearing on two years since you first embarked on this journey of yours. I cannot comprehend why you cannot personally write to me to tell me you will not come to our new home in my parent’s city as was planned. I believe that this is because you do not care for me anymore. It is beyond difficult for me to conjure any scenario in my mind where I might have done something to make you feel this way. Do you truly feel so discontented with me, your beloved wife, that I no longer satisfy you? I can only imagine that your apprentice and scribe, Mesastophillis, cannot be a positive influence on you and is forcing you to leave me all alone in this home by myself. What such a figure could convince you, the most intelligent man I have ever met, to do such a thing? Your wisdom surpasses that of all others, so I am unsure as to the reason why you would neglect the love of your life and the woman of your dreams. You told me I was perfect, an angel meant only for you, so why have you not come home, dear husband? On the day we wed, you and I promised each other that we would live in harmony together so long as we both shall live. My beloved, you have broken your promise to me. You have left me alone, without even a trace of yourself for me to hold onto. No longer can I stand to wonder if you value riches and knowledge and power more than your loyal wife. I hear of your travels, more elaborate than any before, and I learn from your former colleagues in Wittenberg that you have mastered the arts of dark magic. I even hear that you have sold your soul to the devil in exchange for twenty four years of service from a fallen angel. Please tell me that the tales they spin are not the truth. Assure me that you have not signed your life away to the devil himself, that you have not taken an oath that surpasses our wedding vows. I can only believe what I am told by those whom I trust, because you, the man who I used to trust more than anyone else, will not even give me the decency to answer my plea. If all these things they say are true, then not only have you voluntarily signed your own death sentence, but you have also forced me into a life of loneliness. My dearest, I cannot be your loving wife from beyond the grave. Yet even now I struggle to be the same woman who became your lawfully wedded wife just two years ago. How am I supposed to remain true and loyal to you when you abandon me for a life full of travel and riches that can only end with your eventual death sentence? I am still the strong woman you married those few years ago and I cannot wait many more years just to discover the unknown truth about you. If what all your colleagues have told me is the genuine truth, then there will be drastic measures that I must take. The only thing that I am thankful for in my barrenness and inability to give you sons and/or daughters is that no child of ours will ever experience the loneliness I feel. I miss you greatly and I still love you but I cannot live this way much longer. I cannot bear to think that you have abandoned me, but if this is true, then you give me no choice but to leave you for good, dear husband. If I do not hear from you in more than twelve months, I will be forced to take drastic measures. One year from today, I will no longer call myself your wife. I truly wish that it did not have to come to this, but you give me little choice in the matter. If I had enough evidence to believe that these stories are indeed false, then I would never consider this, but truly you have taken this choice away from me.

Yours, Perhaps Not Forever and Always,

The Disappointed Mrs. Faustus

To my Deceased ex-husband,

October 9th, 1592

Paris, France

So it seems that the stories were true. Many moons ago I wrote to you asking whether or not your dealings with the devil were pure gossip or sincere. As it turns out, the tales told to me were indeed true. It was confirmed to me by the scholars who were with you when you died. According to them, you tried to repent for your wrongful ways in the hours leading up to the end of your sentence. They even mentioned that you called upon ancient Greek gods like Helen of Troy in an attempt to save you. Alas, you had to pay the price for what you did as it was too late. Satan’s mark was etched into your skin and you now belong forever to the devil in his lair. Mesastophilis’ servitude cost you your life, and it cost us our marriage. I kept true to my word, and I was able to discreetly annul our marriage. My family found me a reputable husband in France, and two years after I wrote you last, he and I were married and moved to Paris. I have told no one that I am writing this letter, as no one else knows that I was married to the infamous Doctor Faustus. Your tales spread across all regions, and many people knew of the fantastical and mystical adventures you had during your last twenty-four years of life. It turns out that I was mistaken about my barrenness, and I am now a mother to five children. Yet even as I built my new life, not a day goes by where I do not think of you. I imagine what a life with you would have been like, and I often blame myself for what happened to you. If I had loved you more or if you truly knew how much I loved you then maybe you would not have sold your soul to the devil. Yet, you knew the price you would pay. You chose to live a life of luxury and riches and magic over a life married to me. A price so high, that not only did it kill you but it killed our marriage. I have learned to move on, but I still think of you. You will always be a part of me.

No Longer Your Wife But Your First Love, Forever and Always,

The Former Mrs. Faustus

Dear Rachel,

I met you during a troubled time in my life. Most of the times of my life (thus far) have been troubled, though I always keep pushing forward.

Relationships scare me - you know that. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, like I’m holding your heart in my hands each day. It’s been less than a year, and I have hurt you already, and you helped me to see that maybe that’s just a part of this thing called love: the knowing that it will hurt sometimes, but we can forgive each other and keep moving forward, living in the present moment, and building a life together.

I love your warm smile, which makes me feel safe. I love your kind demeanor, the way you can walk down a street and start a conversation with anyone. I marvel at that quality because I so often look at people suspiciously, while you're able to strike up a conversation (and even a friendship) so easily.

I love how you believe in God, but you don’t push your beliefs on me or anyone else. I love how much you appreciate your family, even though you recognize there are things in the past that hurt you.

I love how you talk about childhood memories and how proud you are to be from Tennessee and down South. You’re my Southern belle and you’re kind, but fierce.

I love how hard you work, how tough you are. I love how you make me a better person and you build me up, instead of tearing me down.

I love how you touch me, how each kiss and caress seems to heal me.

Every day, I’m learning how to love you more, all of you, the parts that I like, the parts that annoy me, and the parts that are neutral.

Your definition of love is not flimsy or fickle. Your love is born of the earth, it’s tough and unrelenting, gentle but strong, loyal but unwilling to be taken advantage of, a mixture of our generation’s beliefs with the beliefs of your ancestors.

Your love sustains me when I’m running low. Your love recognizes that God is the source of all love and who we both rely on, allowing us to love each other.

Your love doesn’t back down: it’s wild like the Lynyrd Skynyrd guitar solos that make you think of back home, and it’s open and spacious like the farms you spent time on as a child.

I am grateful for your love, your Southern-fried attitude and cooking.

We’ve said this to each other before: We’ll never totally know everything about each other, though we seem to know much already.

But that’s the exciting part: the future ahead, and learning something new and becoming closer to you each day.

Love,

-Nick

The End

Love is a connection, and its got branches and roots like a tree. You are one of my loves, and I hold you close indeed. It's bad to say you've got a favorite sibling, but I just love you differently. We all do. We love you because we almost lost you. I'll still remember the frown on your face and the colors green and blue. You didn't like it when people took pictures, and you had just turned two. In that moment, I never would have guessed that in the days following you would be diagnosed with a great monster: cancer. We got past the cancer in the end, and that's what matters. You're loud and noisy, but it's because of your hearing. It didn't just kill the cancer, the chemotherapy. It took your teeth and your ears, but I will listen for you. Don't believe what the kids said at school. If a pink or purple lunchbox makes you happy, then just ignore them. They're only temporary. What isn't temporary is how much I love you. Love holds the whip that lashes every time I think about how you have changed me. Love is what nearly drove me insane and brought me back when you were sick. Love is the pillow I slept on damp with tears. Love is the scars you have that don't matter to you or me. I love you, and I'm so happy you're one of the branches to my tree.

Dear Alien,

When I woke up this morning, I felt an extreme sadness in my heart, remembering this would be the beginning of your last week at work. For a while, I sat still on the bathroom floor and kept wondering how I fell for such a crazy alien. Before I even knew, my night dress was soaked with tears. The more I wiped my tears, the faster they started pouring down my face. I love to cry to lighten my chest, but I never knew tears could be so uncontainable. I wanted to get up and get ready for work, but I just couldn’t stop crying. An aunt of mine, who became blind at a very young age, once told me how she always had to struggle to wade through the empty space in front of her. I realized, I would go through the same trauma until this Friday. Dear Alien, how do I live without you?

Paula, as you said, I am a crazy alien. Humans are not supposed to fall in love with crazy aliens. See, there are six billion other humans around you; if you do not like one, you can always try another. They will understand and share your emotions and you can all get along well. But the aliens are so few and far between that they hardly understand humans, let alone how to relate to humans at the emotional level. They are inherently different; so different that I think they should learn to mind their own business and not ever get emotionally involved with humans. That’s the mistake I made and I know I am paying dearly for it now. You cannot even dream of how I feel to leave you. But I also know how flaky and short-lived human emotions are – I tell you what, two days later, you won’t even remember I existed. To humans: out of sight, out of mind – no exceptions!

Dear Alien, I can’t believe you just said that. Now I know, you truly are heartless. You are right, I am better off with humans only. At least, they won’t make mockery of my honest emotions. You really don’t deserve me.

Paula, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings; I just wanted to lighten up the conversation. I would hate to see you cry like this for five more days. I thought you call me crazy because I have much deeper emotions and sensitivity than the average humans. You have seen how upset I get when you talk to other men. In fact, I told you, my heart freezes to see you with another man. You know, only crazy aliens can behave that way – normal humans don’t. Similarly, when I was with other alien women, I didn’t feel that way at all; actually, I didn’t care if they would run off with others. But with you, it has always been different. All along, I felt a deep sense of connection with you.

Dear Alien, I don’t understand one thing – these last few days, you are supposed to spend more time with me, have lunch and dinner with me every day; instead, you are running around with all the half-known folks from the office. You hardly cared about them all these years. Now, suddenly, they all become important to you? Cancel your lunch date today. I will take you out to lunch. I cannot stand her. Why does she come over to talk to you so many times every day? Worse, she always whispers. I wish I could hear what she says to you. Anyway, I wonder how I will feel when you are not around any longer. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. Lately, I have been crying inside all the time. I have grown so used to being with you all this time. In fact, by sharing the room with you, I know I made it worse for myself. Come to think of it, I should have been an alien too. When I was emotionally involved with the humans, I thought everything was so shallow – superficial talks about some stupid sports, dumb family matters, and of course, all about foods from morning to night. I thought they were more interested in my paycheck and a free lifelong maid service than me, the real person. It was all conditional. I must say, however crazy you are, it has been totally unconditional. If you ever get married, are you going to be as crazy about her? Please don’t answer that. Dear Alien, how do I live without you?

Paula, you are not making things easy for me either. Instead, say something good I will always remember.

We made love! Oh, no! I should not have reminded you that. I know, you will always remember how I look inside. Shame, shame, baby shame! Actually, I love the way you beg me, ‘please, please, please.’

Paula, I am sure, soon you will find someone from your species and eventually get married. If you have a son, name him after me.

I cannot name him ‘Alien.’

Paula, you might have forgotten, but I do have a real name too. By the way, you will make a wonderful mother. I know, your kids will be crazy about you.

So, you are telling me, I won’t be a wonderful wife?

Paula, please don’t. Sorry, sorry, sorry! I was just kidding.

Dear Alien, if you ever see me being happy with another man, you may get a heart attack.

Paula, you have such a poor opinion of my emotional stability. Just don’t marry someone I already know. Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean that.

Dear Alien, some aliens do go on to become successful even in this human world. If you ever own a successful company, do you think you will let me run it?

Sure! I have to first hire you as a senior manager and then slowly empower you.

It’s amazing how you fall for anything I ask for. Do you know, I can easily betray you?

You won’t, Paula. You have such a clear heart. You never have any evil thinking. You will never do any harm to anyone.

Dear Alien, close your eyes and give me your right arm. I have to write something that you will always remember.

Paula, you are taking too long. I cannot keep my eyes closed anymore. My arm is hurting too.

Just keep quiet. Your arm is resting on my thigh – think of this as a privilege. Now give me your left arm so I can finish my final lines. Okay, open your eyes now.

“Time Marches on

But Memory Stays

Torturing Silently

The Rest of Our Days.”

-Tennyson

Dear Alien, how do I live without you? I wish I was an alien too!

Love,

The Future Alien

What is love? I used to ask before I met you.

And then you arrived like the first soft snowflake touching a dying rose.

And the rose awakened at the scintilla,

however fleeting knowing there would be another spring.

And with the onset of spring the garden full of rebirth called to you,

but you had melted and morphed into something other than snow.

However, a rose is a rose, dead or alive and you understood,

walking towards a solitary flower, again and again,

letting the universe know, we will survive another winter.

Hello my love, I thought that you should know...

It was early on a Sunday morning when my heart made its final descent into love. I will never forget that moment as it will be forever etched into my soul.

There you sat at the small table using only the sun to illuminate the room. Your back was straight yet your head was slight tilted downward, with pen in hand you were writing.

As I passed through the hallway towards you, I felt as though I was stepping into another world. Another dimension of which you had created within your own silence. The space was filled with an energy unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was like peering into the soul of the most brilliant minds that had ever lived.

I was so captivated by the the moment I didn’t even ponder what you must have been writing. It didn’t matter, nor did I want to know. My curiosity was fulfilled by the passion exuding from within your soul right before my eyes.

As quietly as I could be I crawled on to the couch so that I could watch you. As I absorbed the moment of beauty that was unfolding before my eyes.

After several minutes you closed your book and looked over towards me, with such sincere kind eyes, to wish me a good morning. Yet, little did you know, that you had just given me the best morning of my life. I didn’t think it was even possible for my heart to feel the way it did that day. The power it held was almost too much for me to process within that moment.

This was the day, the day I fell into the deepest vault of love. For in that moment I knew that God had sent you for me.

You inspire me to be to better than I ever thought I could be, and to be the person I am meant to be. All I want is to take care of you, and to show you what it means to be loved unconditionally. To help you to see the man that I see in you. Thank you for taking me into your world, it will be a day I will treasure forever.