The bare essence of it all: A day with you in it is better than a day without you in it.
I remember the moment I first saw you. You were wearing something white. There was a tall, gently smiling lady with you. I remember trying to hide I was only interested in you.
A insidious shower of refreshing purity.
I walked out of the room thinking if I don’t see her again the sun won’t shine anyway. ‘ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone’.
I’d rather be blind my whole life than to be able to see for two minutes only to be blind again.
I had the hook in me.
I still do not know what it must be like for you to have a stranger walk into your life and start bombarding you with myriad products of his instantaneous feverish attraction to you. In my wildest dreams I imagine it warms your heart.
I have this recurring daydream that we own a giant apartment overlooking the Danube. The roof is also ours and there’s a pool there.
There’s a collection of whiskey for when you’re father comes over. You don’t approve but it reassures you when we’re bonding over Lafroigh.
There are two showers so you never have to step into a wet one.
Instead of sex I always picture home scenes OR us masterfully bagging a whole reception full of venerable diplomats and the like.
Home scenes like you cutting fruit, or polishing your nails, drying your hair, reading a book in your silky smooth pyjamas. Lying in bed on the phone with your sister. Putting your outfit together. It’s enough to give me a feeling of fullness. Satiated by your closeness and presence.
I have smiled more in a few months of communicating with you than in the four years before. Is it scary to have that effect on someone? I suppose it could be.
When you tell me I can bring out my creativity without you it sounds exactly like saying a car doesn’t need any petrol to drive.
You talk of fear of not being able to give me what I expect, and you give me precisely what I need. A calmness, a lifting of darkness, a flowing taste to create. The inner peace of feeling all roads, even the very bumby, erratic ones took me to you. A zen like state of embracing things as they are.
If I give, it’s only giving back what you have given me first. If I try to add beauty to your day it’s only returning the favor.
When am holding or caressing you, I feel fully grounded, centered, merged with you like ship and sail, like tree roots and fertile soil.
I like your humor, your thoughtfulness, your typical jella jella rush rush all day galvanized marching on the double quick to your drowsy exhausted hush hush evening (or Sunday afternoon) state, your vulnerability tucked so very safely away under your sunny magnetic field.
As I have told you many times before the world loses its sores with one look at you. You’re the rose springing up from the boggy dirt completely obfuscating the idea that there ever even existed any boggy dirt.
You can give whatever you feel like giving, but it would help us if you could see that you give heaps by simply being you, possibly more than I could ever give back, but I try to keep up the pace.
What you imagine you should give me is not really what I expect to receive. Perhaps you shouldn’t think too much about that, you’ve been vastly underestimating your own generous spirit from the moment we started.
There is no yesterday and there is no tomorrow.
There is just this moment and I say
and more funny, cute, endearing, tender moments flash through our heads than most couples collect in years.
Treat us to a cup of coffee
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