Dear Beautiful

Dear Beautiful,

I know that you don’t know me, and I don’t expect you’d ever want to.  Watching you every day walk past my office makes me want to call out to you in the worst way.  I love it when you wear those little skirts that really show off your body.  Your gait is fascinating to me, while I have observed some who have a tendency to make it drag you are always so buoyant walking down the street.  When I see you a smile spreads across my face and I think about how you were before.  I wonder if there ever was a before, or were you born this way?  I know you probably miss/or wish you could wear high heels.  If you were with me I would lick and suck those toes so well, it would make you wish you had two feet.  I see you with your argyle sweaters, your hair pulled up in a pony-tail, and your bone structure so delicate and beautiful.  My obsession is the ten minutes I see you walking from your office to the city square.  For lunch break?  Could you possibly be a student?  God, I hope you are over the age of eighteen.  All I want to tell you is not to worry, my sweet girl.  You remind me of a new car, the way your one leg glistens in the light.  I think it is cute how you always have the most fashionable shoes on.  Is your foot robotic too?  Am I creeping you out too much?  Okay, I will stop.  But the second I see the sway of that skirt, and your humble trek outside of my office, I feel myself getting weak.  Maybe one day I will be able to “accidentally” meet you outside.  Maybe I could bump into you to get your attention.  Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up knocking you over, then I would go to jail for harming a cripple.  Oh s**t, sorry for calling you that, I don’t want to label you anything but beautiful.  Christ, I borderline worship you.  I even adopted a three legged dog just so I could feel your presence while I am at home.  He helps me think about you while I am outside of work.  When I watch him hobble around the living room, I can’t help but think about how awkward it must be for you to shower.  The metal leg can’t get we because it would probably rust right?? 

Oh how I long to see your stump!  I would lather it in the silkiest of lubricants, prop it on a pillow, and simply pray to it.  I would caress it, and make it feel like it was not missing a thing.  Do you ever get that invisible leg syndrome they are always talking about?  I mean do you have the sensation you are stretching your toes/leg that is not really there?  Does it feel like it is asleep?  Or are you more like me, and never born with it at all so there is no memory to remind you.  I guess what I am trying to say is that the moment I saw you, you made my life.  I know you will be the one to truly understand me.  God, I can’t believe I am actually telling you this but I am missing something too.  It is my heart because it belongs to you. Kidding.  It is actually my mind because I lost it for you.  Another joke.  See, when I was born it was with something called agenesis (testicular and penis).  The doctors deciding to make me a girl was out of the question (I am Asian).  I truly hope you understand, and that this note finds you well. 

Love Ken

Author's Note

Just trying to fit in with everyone else on here writing all these love stories and shit.

Reviews

[The Storyteller]

I can say this is not your typical love letter. I think awestruck would be the word to describe your story. I don't dislike your story but I do believe it was unexpected. The oddities of the story have me thinking about how borderline a crush and stalker can be. As well as brief glimpiss of the life of people with missing appendiges. In conclusion I think it would be very interesting to hang out with your character Ken.

[martin]

Hey, made me smile….. Oh god,