Dear Bullet,
I would like to begin this letter by first apologizing to you for my lack of attention. Sadly, you have been put aside in a bedside table for thirteen months; your existence not recognized when it very obviously should have been. For that, I am sorry.
The other day as I was lying in bed consumed with the idea of sleep yet unable to float away, I glanced over to that bedside drawer. I am not sure why I thought about you, or even what exactly I was thinking, but I slowly reached into that drawer to relieve you of your dungeon. A dungeon that I had condemned you to because of my own fears and misgivings. Thankfully, the brand new package of batteries was close by, as your power supply was emtpy. (hmm sidebar: why was that?)
I want to thank you for what you have done for me. My eyes are open, WIDE open, and I have you to thank for that. The first time, I explored you myself. Touching, caressing, all to find what I LIKED best. But the second time, I introduced you to someone very special to me, and if he were here right now, he would thank you as well. What we share together, and NOW with you, is mind numbing; something no drug could ever provide.
I will forever and always take care of you, my bullet. Please remember that, as you have taken care of me.
Sincerely in lust,
C
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