A/N: cdunbar requested I delivered.

This also has been removed and then added to my collection of Canon POVs. Thank you for all the lovely reviews previously submitted!

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

The Scrawlings of a Lovesick Old Fool

2120, S. Calumet Avenue,

Chicago, IL 60616.

13th August, 1917

Dearest Miss Platt,

It has been six years, two months and seven days since I was fortunate enough to attend you, upon your admittance to St. Mary's hospital in Columbus. I know that we shall not meet again, and that is only right. You will now be twenty-two, or thereabouts, and most likely married. I hope happily, and to a man of worth who is both gentle and kind to you.

Yet I feel I must write this letter to you of my feelings. In fact, to 'speak' bluntly, my strong feelings of devotion, love and attachment. I can with utmost sincerity tell you that not one day has passed where I did not think of you. Where I have not desired your company, the sound of your voice, or the warmth of your spirit.

I have already decided I shall not send this letter; your eyes shall never see these poorly worded and hastily scrawled words. Yet I feel like I am baring my soul to you. I feel like I have pulled back skin, flesh and muscle... my very chest cavity open so that you may peer so closely in.

I am so old, my darling. You cannot comprehend how old. And yet, I am drawn to you. Only a child when we met, even if you are a woman now. I am drawn to you like a man is drawn to a woman, a moth to a flame. I ignore the vastness of the years behind me compared to the small stretch behind you. Not even a quarter of a century! I beat you by twelve, my darling.

To society you are just a child and I am a myth. But to me you are Esme. The physical encapsulation of divinity that I adore.

I am a god-fearing man. My father was a Rector and he instilled his values into me, but the strength of my devotion to you far outshines my devotion to our Father. The power of just the idea of you over me is terrifying.

I remember the first time I saw you, in our one and only meeting. A muddy and tear streaked face looked up at me and tremblingly smiled.

I fell that moment and I have not stopped.

I tended your injury, trying not to allow my hands to touch you lest you caught a chill. But inside I was burning and found my eyes devouring your unveiled leg. The colour of fresh cream, despite the violet and lavender bruising, a shade I disliked seeing marring your beautiful skin, undid me. I remember finishing tying the bandage and looking up at you from my knees. You were smiling down at me benevolently. I stared unafraid into your soft brown eyes and I did not flinch as you stared into my amber ones. You stretched out your hand and it hovered next to my cheek. I yearned for you to mould it around my face, to lean into your warm hand and breathe in youth, and peace.

I have never ached for someone to touch me as much as I did then.

But your parents returned into the room and the rest of my time with you ended too quickly. You avoided my gaze until you left.

I have known hell, my darling. I have lived through three days of it. And I have known loneliness from countless years of living it. But these past six years, two months and seven days have been the most desolate of my existence. The world is made of ash to me if you are not in it. It is dark and dull, the landscape just variations on the same colour - grey.

I feel hollowed out, a husk of a person. I have striven for death many times and never achieved it. I feel sure I shall perish if you are not with me.

In this letter I shall not send I need not fear offending or shocking you, my darling. In the most respectful and ardent way I crave you with all of my being. I have never kissed you, I have never held or caressed you, but I know in the depths of my heart you would feel wondrous, that we would be wondrous together. I find myself slipping into fancies of what life would be like with you. Hearing your laugh every day. Seeing your smile. Holding you in my arms whilst we lay in bed, delirious in our happiness. I do not think about whether my cold skin affects you, or you are immune to it. I dream of phantom happiness.

I cannot settle, I cannot think. I am consumed by thoughts of you. You, a young girl I met over six years ago and only for an hour. I cannot explain it. I cannot explain why I long for you so. All I know is that I do, and I feel my sanity leaving me through such yearning.

Which is why I write this letter that you will never see.

I wish to write my love to you, before I lose my senses. I know that you are the only one I shall ever love, but I am resigned to my fate. I will let you live your life until it reaches its natural end. And I shall love you constantly, and fervently, from afar, wishing you the happiness that eludes me.

Your devoted servant,

Dr. C. Cullen.

A/N: Hope you liked it, I would welcome reviews. I've never written letter format before.

Oh, and I wrote an entry for the 'For The Love of Jasper' contest. It's a canon one shot JPOV called 'Man Of War'.

Thank you, hopefully TATH won't be long.