you make me laugh when you call me on things of which i was unaware.
you make me laugh when you call me on things of which i was unaware.
i love you, dammit. you self-centered, charming beauty; you’ve got me.
why not just not cry? detaching from the process allows unfolding…
overrun and overcome by the river of emotion– the soft insistent flow that surges without explanation– a wandering thought gives rise to the butterflies that live inside my stomach and travel through my body (to some places more than others) when you come to mind. moving through carefully placed postures and understood roadblocks– the logic of them unable to assuage the …
every tiny piece that has ever been part of me is rushing back NOW. leaving me to feel undeniably full and blessed for knowing you…
i can say the same thing over and over again with new words– articulate the feelings, ever expanding– and celebrate the joy that flows through and around my heart like hot springs, beginning internally and working their way out to the edges– creating a warmth, a safety, that cannot be duplicated. i am vast, …
my love for you flattens all constructs, replaces ideas, fragments the structures so clearly fixed. it leaves me amongst the rubble and decay of beliefs and images held dearly since the beginning of time. understanding as a caterpillar taking to her chrysalis, that with the death of certainty, comes the birth of flight.
If i could paint a picture of the moment when my heart first became yours– its edges would blur– the canvas never sufficient expression. If a machine existed that measured the point of impact (when my soul first recognized yours) it would irrefutably prove the magnitude of a love– its fabric stretched across lifetimes. …
impossible to be near you and not allow the truth to exist…
because you asked and you know I deliver– a limerick for you, my dear friend, whose open-armed acceptance of me as your third wheel is heart-warmingly beautiful. You, who serve as a shining example that love and devotion are tangible, actual– your love for your wife palpable, exuding from you in purples and blues. …
the edges of myself 