Award-winning author, Felix Alexander returns with his third collection of love letters and poems, and the fourth installment in the Forever Poetic Series. A saga about missed chances, unrequited love, longing and hope, and never leaving anything unsaid.
The book begins with a series of love letters confessing a secret admiration that slowly evolves into unrequited love. Each letter paints love in different colors, Every page is a canvas of Alexander's poetic mastery. Although sprinkled with the occasional verse in the first few letters the book begins to alternate between letters and poetry a third of the way in. Readers are taken on a gondola ride of poetry and prose that reveals the depth of a romantic's affections.
Lovers of literary romance, romantic poetry, and sweet love are sure to be touched profoundly by this collection and inspired to believe in love.
Award-winning author, Felix Alexander returns with his third collection of love letters and poems, and the fourth installment in the Forever Poetic Series. A saga about missed chances, unrequited love, longing and hope, and never leaving anything unsaid.
The book begins with a series of love letters confessing a secret admiration that slowly evolves into unrequited love. Each letter paints love in different colors, Every page is a canvas of Alexander's poetic mastery. Although sprinkled with the occasional verse in the first few letters the book begins to alternate between letters and poetry a third of the way in. Readers are taken on a gondola ride of poetry and prose that reveals the depth of a romantic's affections.
Lovers of literary romance, romantic poetry, and sweet love are sure to be touched profoundly by this collection and inspired to believe in love.
It was brief, but it was real.
Now, I write to pick up the words you left behind.
I reminisce on your smile and the way your gaze held me in the mornings. Night changes many thoughts, but in my dreams, you remain as beautiful as ever. I long to turn back the clock to relive each moment in your presence that made me feel more alive than I had felt in years.
I allowed you into my thoughts and you found your way into my heart.
“Ayer me enamore, and now I can’t walk into tomorrow. Dile al amor que sigo pensando en ti.”
Why did you have to belong to another time?
You’re the reason I now know I don’t have to chase destiny. You’re the dream that never came true, but I still fall asleep hoping you’ll find me in the shadows.
Before you walked into my life, there was a time when I wanted to hide in my heart, but I couldn’t because it was broken and there wasn’t any comfort to be found in the absence of love.
It was a cold and desolate place. A dungeon where the prisoner was memory, and I could not bear to watch it die.
My soul had been shattered by the hammer of betrayal and the pieces left me in the form of tears.
There were days when it hurt to breathe.
There were nights when sleep wasn’t an adequate escape from the pain.
I tried to bury it, but I couldn’t, so I learned how to cry.
I cried hard.
Not the simple shedding of tears, but the form of crying that interrupts your breathing and time has no relevance.
In the end, the wound ran deep, but I pursued the pain in order to begin to heal. And heal, I did.
I lingered in purgatory for a while.
It was a lonely journey.
It was necessary.
It led me to the moment I was born to experience.
It led me to you!
The day we met, your soft eyes calmed me and captivated me all at once. Your gaze held me in a way that felt like being lost in the middle of a memory.
One morning, the sun fell into your eyes, and I could have sworn they twinkled with a hint of honey.
You smiled, and I was filled with tender hope.
Hope I had not felt in ages.
When our eyes met, I considered renouncing the solitary pleasure of watching others fall in love.
This, of course, was less for the uncertainty of tomorrow than for the sorrow of imagining the rest of my life without you.
I think of you often.
Too often for a man who has remained guarded for too long.
Whenever you were near, I couldn’t determine if you took my breath away, or I simply forgot to breathe.
This is the effect that you had on me.
Which begs the question: Have you ever been hypnotized by destiny?
Even in memory, I gaze into your eyes, and I’m lost. I dare say that if I kept falling into your gaze, I would have never recovered.
Perhaps it is true when they say that the uniqueness of falling in love is that it is something you’re never prepared to experience. Oh, and what an experience it was to share with you.
You spoke and it was as if your voice was the poetry, and my soul was the page.
I lost myself in your gaze and I wondered if my eyes revealed the secret in my heart that belonged to you.
If I could have written you a poem with numbers, I would have penned the equation where you and I were one.
Thinking of you continues to fill the space in-between my heart beats.
I lose sleep staging my dreams for you!
You’re lovely.
You’re enchanting.
When I first looked upon you, I was convinced that every goddess of the world’s pantheons was envious of you. You’re the poem I keep trying to write and the book I keep hoping to read. In the interim, I pray that these words you inspired when our paths crossed will suffice in making you smile.
The Book of Danielle is a series of letters and poems chronicling the love of the narrator for the eponymous Danielle. As the book goes on, the narrator moves from hopeful to hopeless, from infatuation to obsession. It's subtly and beautifully done.
There are only mere glimpses of the character Danielle, not much more than a name and how taken the narrator is with her eyes and smile. It would be nice to know why the narrator has such deep feelings for her but this is not really explored. Perhaps that's the point; the narrator is so overcome with their feelings they have lost sight of the real person they stemmed from.
The book focuses on the high emotion of love and what it means to love someone. The metaphors and imagery often evoke forces of nature such as the sky, stars and moon to portray the narrator's turmoil of feeling. The language is beautiful, expertly wielded and lovely to read. One can't help but feel jealous of Danielle at having such devotion, at least at the book's beginning!
The more one reads, the more the heightened language and feeling becomes overwhelming as the narrator tips from infatuation to obsession. The book is all about how they feel and while it's dazzling to read one can't help but yearn for a longer glimpse behind the curtain at what really happened between the narrator and Danielle.
I often found myself skipping over the poems to the love letters. The poems sometimes had lines that felt forced for the rhyme. While the imagery was still lovely, I found them the weaker part of the collection.
It's a relatively short collection, but what's there is powerful and compelling. Read this if you have a love of poetic, beautiful language, are a hopeless romantic or need some inspiration for a love letter of your own!