Blocky's Letters For Taco's Flattery /// From The Front

To my dear Taco,

I have been separated from you for only a few weeks, yet it already feels like a heavy weight lays on my chest. And I'm not talking about my gun. Not only is it an excellent, reliable and lightweight piece of honest Soviet work, but I keep it next to my bed rather than in it. You are the only woman I would ever concieve of sharing a bed with unless required by the party, which always knows best.

Every day, when I am not busy fighting the nazis, I think about you. I remember those times you'd come to keep me company at our fortified position, and for a little of my military ration, as we'd been so short of food due to the cruelty of our besieging foe and burgeoise subversives among our own.

I dream of being able to speak with you again. I wish I could run my hands through your lettuce leaves or gently squish your tomato slices. I fantasize about your lips every time I have lunch. I've even noticed the other soldiers looking at me weird. They say I do strange things to the spoon on my first slurp of soup.

Without you, I feel a great sadness, as though the fire within me was being starved of wood. Your warmth, your heat, the spark in your eyes, it is incomparably lovelier to the mere crude heat of soup. 

Similarly do I miss your hugs. I long for the texture of your tortilla shell on my face every night, for the sparkle you seem to always have in your eyes. The sparkle of a true proletarian woman, ready to give her all to the most important of all causes, worker's liberation. You are my red star, the motor of my katyusha, the only thing that drives me forwards besides trust in comrade Steel.

Keep your eyes peeled, my love. But don't damage your shell, of course! I couldn't forgive myself if some capitalist conspirators did something to you while I was gone. Yet here I am, on the front, far from you, unable to protect you. And so I tell my commissar to message those in Leningrad to pay closer attention to you. I know they know best, but I can't stop myself. I must be assured of your safety. I know you are in good hands, yet I nonetheless wish they were my own. And to that end, my dear, I pledge I will fight as hard as I can to take down the nazi threat so I can finally see you again.

I have no more to say to you today, my beloved, but I trust in our, albeit wounded, proud state's capabilities to deliver you my letters in good time. But don't have the postman deliver my kisses for me! I intend to take care of those when I come back.

With love

Blocky