You were lovely tonight.

Lovely every night, together or apart. When I was freaking, you gave me some solace. You gave me advice that wasn't advice at all- sought and given easily, with no feelings of remorse. Or recrimation, which is what I sometimes get.

You're kind and firm, and polite.

Oh darling.

It's hard at that age, anything that makes you different. You said that. You had a hard time, harder than I realised, though maybe you didn't make it easier on yourself, but noone's really got control over who they are at that age. I mean, you're so defensive. But you've got reason, darling. You're easily hurt, and you have been, and you need your walls and battlements. Just let me in, because I care.

You can't walk round in your perfectly decent pyjamas. Long trousers, big t-shirts. That must make such an impact on you, not feeling good about your body already and then someone says, don't, your form makes me feel uncomfortable.

You don't make me feel uncomfortable darling. There's a feeling, like an itch that's been scratched in my stomach, that makes me want you so much. From the inside out.

I wanted to say, screw him, you are lovely beyond anything. You look beautiful all the time, and maybe he doesn't like to be reminded of it. Maybe he feels about you as I do... because noone can really be made that uncomfortable, just by the presence of a woman in pyjamas. I'd like to spend time with you, lounging around in our night time clothes, cottony soft and crumpled into each other.

I wonder, if I told you that you were beautiful, if you'd like to hear it or not at all? You're not one of those that seeks approval, but then you do feel like you want to seek it; weight loss, though you'd say it's for you, is it? It's a little bit because of other people. It always is dear. I want to tell you, over and over and over. But you might feel like I do. I don't like hearing it that much, when I'm not sure what it means. I like hearing it when I know it means, 'you are the most beautiful thing to me, not to everyone else', but if it just means, 'you're beautiful', whisper-shouted over a dripping bar table and stumbling shoved into the ears, it means nothing. I mean the first kind, dear, and what I'm really saying is, 'you're the best person, and it's evident in your face and form'. I want you. Your pragmatic sense, your defensive nature, your beautiful shy form, I don't care whether you drive me to distraction with pedantry, because it's you.

I wonder sometimes if you do love. I hope you do, even if I know it's not me you want. I want you to have that and to be that for someone else, because if I feel this then others will too, and I'd like you to know if it wasn't so deeply embarrassing. I'd like you to know you inspire this huge feeling in someone. That someone thinks this of you.

We'd not celebrate valentines day, and go night walking, and cook for ages, and make tea, and sit in pyjamas for hours on end.