April 2011
122 posts
On the Agenda Today:
bake peanut butter cookies
take a long shower
give myself a haircut
stop by the mall
Montclair to see The Agee/Evans Project at 7:30pm
Montclair for the night, cuddling included.
It is the quiet moments that settle in-between our words. It is the glances that are warm and the nights that are cold; filled with limbs pressing together for heat. It is the turned off light switches, the closed doors, the hot showers. It’s the notes and the sweet little things. It is the licked lips, the aching muscles, the sore eyes. It is the eyes-on-eyes, the hands-on-hips and the...
Kate Middleton, stop it.
I’m doing a Relay for Life for the American Cancer Society.
Please help out and donate by going here.
I saw sparks.
I feel like we’re fortunate in a weird sort of twisted way. We get to remember and build on those silly little moments from the beginning all over again, but already know the love is there. We’re the lucky ones.
Today it sounded like Giants were walking the earth. And I thought about what if that were to be a true idea. Would they cry often and fall in love? Would they slide down mountains and swim in the ocean?
It was funny being in the back of your truck taking cover from the heavy, copious rain and the silent lightening. We were hiding from the outside conditions but completely exposed to the inside ones. And the conditions were you and I; an us.
Hands. Lips. Eyes. Limbs. I’m so happy to have.
Yours.
I bloom in front of you.
I believe in it. I really do.
I would love to lay in the sun with you today. The grass prickling our arms and legs. Our faces against the earth, feeling the cool ground beneath us. The sun hitting your smile in a way that has always made me weak at the knees.
Whenever you would disappear into your head, into that mind beautiful and full of words and ideas; I always wanted to follow you. I would like you to let me.
“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.”
– Markus Zusak (The Book Thief)
Je m’ennuie de le goût de vos lèvres.
“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.” — Brian Andreas
I didn’t take a moment for granted. I tried to soak every second in. Every touch and every glance.
Today, someone told me I reminded them of Molly Ringwald.
My lips were grazed with your love through out the hours. It was there; in the dim lights of new york city we felt one another all over again. We meshed our hands, quietly resting at our sides; together. My head raced but my heart raced faster.
The Thief by Brooke Fraser (This song is a new...
My eyes were closed but I wasn’t sleeping. I was listening. I was listening to your noises. The familiar footsteps and rustling; your quiet breathing and humming. If you only knew how much I missed your noises.
I’m sitting in my car and my heart is beating so loudly.
“Well I have no plans on going
anywhere, I promise lady.
I’m stickin...”
– e.b.
(like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.)
Hello. —it’s me. tangled and torn. Did you hear the news? Engulfed. You were never lost.
I secretly wanted to put you in my purse and keep you forever. Because the thought of not having you is a terrible one.
Your hand(s); my spine shivering from the touch. The ever- growing want. Your hand(s); cradle my chin. A handful of my love.
We sat, cradling our love in the backseat of your truck. I think we both burned a little on the inside. And maybe on the outside too.
It’s funny, you never think you’ll truly need someone, genuinely absolutely need someone…
until you find that one person you actually do need.
Last night I had dreams within dreams.
“There is a tall tale about this woman who let her sailor husband off to sea and she waited on the shore all day and night for him. She turned to stone.” -Emilija Bitinaityte
buffaloheart asked: You are such a lovely creature.
Note to self: It doesn’t get easier. Remember that.
A porcelain doll sitting politely upon a shelf. When you’re around me I come to life.
I got the job at the lovely little bookstore. So happy.
“These types of fish are much too beautiful to be kept.” The mother said to her small sandy-haired son. He looked down at the fish in his pail. His eyes watered and rained down; salty tears mixing with the salt of the sea. He wanted to keep her. But he knew his mother was right. She was much too beautiful to sit in a fishbowl on his dresser.
“One day I will have a large tank....
A wise friend of mine compared this to an unwritten novel. One with two authors. Two authors that have a grave distance between them. We bicker back and forth between holding the pen, the permanent words that will engrave us forever. I have held onto this piece of paper, half filled, for weeks now. And it still remains; unmoved. The only way to write this is to write it side by side.
Today I have an interview for a job at a lovely little bookstore. I’m beyond excited.
When I dream, I dream of you. And when I dream of you my stomach twists into knots.
“You’re like a white Halle Berry.”
– B.M. 