A Love Letter to Abraham Lincoln

My Dearest Abe,

I have long admired you; ever since the fourth grade when I was forced to recite your Gettysburg Address in front of an entire class of 10 year olds. Thank you ever so much for instilling in me the knowledge that “four score and seven years” is 87 years. That is about all the mathematical intelligence my brain has retained from my days of youth.

I wished as I got older that I had lived in a different time- a time of hooped skirts and slavery, not because I am for slavery, no- I abhor it immensely- but because I would have loved to meet your statuesque self and perhaps had the opportunity to see if the Honest Abe I learned about in school books was , in fact, a myth or a reality. I’m quite certain if I had met you after your marriage happened, there would have been some lying going on to your wife, Mary Todd. (Which I would have felt somewhat bad about.) I’ve always been curious what a man of your stature would do with a woman of menial height.

I remember how thrilled I was on my visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s House on the Rock when I saw that they had re-created your childhood home, complete with log cabin and a studly mannequin that resembled you. The ax he held was a fine weapon indeed.

I must admit, Abe, after I became aware of Chris Meloni, my feelings for you ebbed away slightly. I admire the great thing you did when you signed the Emancipation Proclamation, because yes, all men (and women) should be free from slavery. (Unless they enter into it freely with a Sexual Deviance Contract.) I remember the school trip we took to Washington D.C., where I burst into tears when we toured the theatre where your plain but beautiful head was blown off. I realize now that I was suffering from teenage hormones, but fear not. The sadness I felt over your death was true.

It has come to light in more recent years that you were a vampire hunter before  you became the leader of our great nation. I must admit this knowledge has rekindled the fire I have for you in my heart. How I wish we could have vanquished the undead together- you with your silver-plated ax and I with…. well, um.. my boobs seem to have a distracting effect; however, I’m not quite certain how they would hold up against Dracula’s descendants. It would have been quite lovely to find out.

In closing, I would like to state that, while I cannot lust for you at this time (because you are dead and necrophilia has never been something I’ve been curious about) if you feel the need to haunt me in the late hours of the night, I shall be waiting naked in my bed.

Love,

Sparklebumps

P.S. I do wonder how my Rockstar would feel if I asked him to grow chin-strap whiskers and don a top hat….

Letters of Desire- The First

I found a key while I was digging through the recesses of my mind. I looked around wondering what it unlocked when I saw a wooden trunk with ornate carvings appear before me. I tried the key in the lock, and it slid perfectly in as though it were Cinderella’s foot in the Glass Slipper. With a click, the trunk popped open and I discovered an entire world  of memories hidden inside. Atop the pile of collected life, I found a stack of letters that was enwrapped in a satin ribbon. I looked through them and saw that they seem to have been written from a lover to a lover. This is the first…

To the One I cannot live without,

I’ve just returned from a tryst with you. In all honesty, I should be terrified that we will be found out, but when I recall the desire in your eyes as our bodies carressed, I can think of nothing else. Ay, me! Even now, just the thought of your skin against mine heats my blood so that I tremble uncontrollably! I thrill at the way your delicate hand touched my face and slid down my throat . Such an innocent gesture, and yet the way it raised gooseflesh on my body is a wonder indeed! The softness of your skin is unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

When you removed your gown and your shift- what a glorious sight I beheld! It is no wonder King Solomon wrote about the beauty of his lover, though I cannot imagine she was as lovely as you. My heart races at the thought; if I were overcome with blindness at this very moment, I would live content, knowing that I have seen God’s finest creation in all it’s splendor.

Do not mistake my words for vain lust, Love. Aye, ’tis true Lust’s presence follows you wherever you go, but it is your soul that makes you truly beauteous. Not a touch from your fingers would I need if only I could  bask in the aura of your amazing presence for all of eternity. A million reasons I could give for my unending adoration, but suffice to say that it is the whole of you that has me in shackles at your feet.

I dare now to request another meeting, my Fair One, because I cannot breath without you, and every moment we are apart brings me one step closer to death.

Your Servant Forever

A Farewell to Elliot Stabler’s Arms

My dearest Elliot, (and your Arms)

I was quite distraught to have it brought to my attention that you and your beautiful arms will no longer be starring on Law and Order SVU. I realize this letter may seem a bit belated, but I must admit that I’ve been remiss in my duty as a devoted SVU fan and have not been watching the show in recent months due to my own self-obsession.

I must tell you that my heart felt as if it had been crushed by a thousand elephant’s asses when my beloved friend Delightful informed me that you and your arms were done for after she began watching the show to better understand my obsession with your real life persona Chris Meloni. I felt faint, and had to rest my head on the make-table at work, (which was quite unsanitary, so I had to waste time re-sanitizing it. Thanks.) How can life ever be the same if I am no longer able to adore the Catholic tattoo that graces you uber-buff bicep? I will no longer be able to fantasize your upper appendages being wrapped around my naked body in a passionate embrace, or lifting me from a burning building.

I am bereaved at the fact that I will no longer be able to yell your arms through the TV, screaming, “Just squeeze Olivia already, dammit!” and the fact I will never have had the satifaction of seeing you and she crawling out of bed mostly naked after finally giving in to the sexual tension greatly perturbs me.

No longer shall my desire be whetted by watching marathons of  newer SVU episodes that I haven’t seen a million times. While Richard Belzer’s character Munch is somewhat sexy in a twisted, highly-intelligent old man sort of way, he does not hold a candle to you, Ell. (Or your arms)

My dream of one day playing a victim that you have saved, or maybe replacing Olivia as your partner is destroyed. Where am I to go from here? My life is in ruins and I am in the depths of despair.

While your real-life persona Chris Meloni may yet impassion me by starring in big-budget movies, (or True Blood, I hear) I feel that will never compare to the intimate relationship we’ve had for the past ten, Elliot’s Arms. How could you think of making such a career choice without consulting me? Do you not know how I pine for your beefiness? Do you not know of the fire that burns in my loins at the thought of your sinewy strength? My yoga pants are dewy just writing about it.

My only hope is that you (or the producers of SVU) will come to your senses, and you will yet again grace my T.V. screen on a weekly basis. I will be waiting, bereft and inconsolable, until that time comes, Elliot and Elliot’s Arms.

With all the desire in my 5’3″ frame,

A Heartbroken Sparklebumps