Love letters, part 1

“To write a good love letter, you ought to begin without knowing what you mean to say, and to finish without knowing what you have written.” — Jean-Jacques Rousseau

First attempt:

“I miss your eyes, bright like the lights from inside a refrigerator full of yummy food, I miss your lips like two pomegranates ripe enough to eat but not, you know, so ripe yet that they start to smell funny. I miss your nose that sticks out of your face so proudly, telling me that you are here well before the rest of you does. I miss your elbows, your knees, that little mole you have that I noticed one day but never told you about because it is in such an embarrassing part of your body. I love every part of you, and I just, well, um, wanted you to know that.”