Zelda Fitzgerald to F. Scott Fitzgerald

Darling– I love these velvet nights.
I’ve never been able to decide whether the night was a bitter enemy
or a “grand patron” or whether I love you most in the eternal classic
half-lights where it blends with day or in the full
religious fan-fare of mid-night or perhaps in the lux of noon.
Anyway, I love you most and you ‘phoned me just because you phoned me tonight–
I walked on those telephone wires for two hours after holding your love like a parasol to balance me. My dear.

I look down the tracks and see you coming. And out of every haze and
mist your darling rumpled trousers are hurrying to me.
Without you, Dearest- I couldn't see or hear or feel or think or live.
I love you so and I'm never in all our lives going to let us be apart another night.
It's like begging for mercy of a storm or killing Beauty or growing old, without you.
I want to kiss you so—and in the back where your dear hair starts and your chest.
I love you—and I can't tell you how much.
To think that I'll die without your knowing—you've got to try to feel how much I do.
How inanimate I am when you're gone.
I can't even hate these damnable people. Nobody's got a right to live but us—and they're dirtying up our world and I can't hate them because I want you so.

Come quick.
Come quick to me, Lover.
Darling.

-Your Wife.