Dear Christine,
Never, in a million years will I be able to express the love I have caged in my heart for you. It is too grand and too great to express in words. But with these words, so select and few, I shall try and release them to you. I know you believe I should do this face to face, but I fear soon that will be impossible. Soon, life as we know it will crash into the floor, fire flaming up towards the ceiling of yearning.
I know you have seen my face, and you have lost sleep from it many nights, but still I beseech you, kneel on both my knees to plead before you. Not for you, but for your love, you compassion. I know you would never choose me, but here, in this letter I ask you to. Raoul is indeed a young, handsome bachalor, and every girl would die for a chance at his hand, but I have something he does not. I may not have millions of people at my feet, willing to wait on me hand and foot, but I can give you love. I can give you hours and days of music, and pure love. I am raw, and do not hid much. Yes, I wear a mask, but you can overcome that. Soon, it will seem as part of my face.
Please, Christine, you must deny him. I do not wish to do what I must, but I cannot lose you. My love is too grand. Yes, my love I forgot to tell you about my love for you. It burns deep within me every hour of the day, and every dark hour of the night. You create a deep churning deep within me, giving me courage I never knew I could possess. Just seeing your face brightens even the darkest corner in my soul. You give me inspiration. Every morning I awaken just for you, and my day is devoted entirely to you. Making music for your voice, creating opportunities for you within the opera house. But as those positions will soon disappear, I need you to promise me to love me. Once again, I know I do not possess the boyish good looks, or the power that your childhood friend does, I am still a man with needs, a man that needs you.
My music, I know that is something you know much about. Indeed, if you devote yourself to me, your teacher, it can be a cruel mistress. But I tell you now, my passion has only increased with you in my life. But it has only done so because I long to impress you, to fuel your small spark of love and curiosity you have for me. Oh, my angel, please you must come to me. Love me. I will give you everything you have ever wanted and more.
The other night, when you resided in my quarters after your performance, you touched me. Now, I have never really been touched. I tell you now that was the sweetest sensation I had ever known. Your silken skin against my own rough skin, the yin and the yang.
Once more I plead you before this letter closes, to choose me, to love me. I can be your man, and give you all your mind has ever wanted. Love can fuel even the tiniest flame of wanting. Christine I love you and will never let you go. It is all a matter of whether you want me back.
With Love Never-ending,
Erik