Your reputation for hospitality is fast becoming legend.

Sun, 01 Feb 2009 01:39:54 GMT

Yesterday is what was, today is what we have, and tomorrow is the promise we look forward to.

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 16:16:54 GMT

I've fallen in love with her infinite times. Every time she shifts her weight and the light captures her face in a different way, I fall in love with a view of her that I've never seen before. There are so many sides of her, so many facets of her personality, that enthrall me. I kiss her on the tip of her nose that has become red from my 5 o'clock shadow. Her eyes always remain a deep brown; always sparkling; always transfixed.

Her eyes stayed locked on me as we shared a sliver of life over a mint chocolate chip milkshake; time dripping over the side and onto the table; the ebb and flow of words and glances exchanged for mouthfulls of ice cream. You can't ask for anything more than to share life with someone; molecules amassed into moments that are then woven into the fabric of tomorrow. I'm sharing it all with her. I'm turning my imperfections inside out. I'm giving her every reason to turn me away in hopes that she'll keep me around for who I really am. We kiss in the sun while gawking children look on; their innocent faces pressed with nose against glass; the wheels of their minds racing faster than the car will take them.

I want to see all the places that she's been to better understand where she is now. I want to break her into a million pieces and follow each piece whichever way it may roll just to discover what it may lead back to. I have no words to describe the moment in which my eyes first came to rest on her, but in those very seconds she became my first crush, my first kiss, my first love. She became everything to me. I realized that everything started with her. Everything has led up to her, and we've never been as far apart as we've always thought.

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 04:02:40 GMT

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 18:28:03 GMT

It's the feelings attached to the moments that I'm with her that matter most. As long as I can continue to capture and keep them, then I have everything. Over the years, these memories will shed several layers of skin, take on new looks and meanings, but the feelings will always remain the same. Eventually, after I've collected enough moments with her, one will flow into another until there's hardly any distinction between the two, and we'll have created an infinite moment. No definitions. No wanting. No lacking. Just living. Just being. Together.

(Still, the details will never be lost on me. I've already attached meaning to so many seemingly inconsequential things. Everyday things speak her name. I hear it in passing cars, brewing coffeemakers, and just about everything else. The details are ingrained in me. I have begun a list of words synonymous with her name, and this list will quickly grow long in time. Eventually, I shall bind it, make it into a book, and carry it in my back pocket. To me, this is the only story worth telling. This is the first time everything is just right.)

Fri, 05 Sep 2008 22:20:24 GMT

Every song eventually becomes a elegy for something.

The Ford Amphitheater was unusually packed, and we found ourselves pressed close to one another. Everywhere we went we walked in step, never letting go of one another as we jumped from one scene to the next. Only occasionally would our hands trail off when one of us would skip ahead and the other would stay behind to contemplate and admire the absurdity and complexity of our concert-going peers for a couple minutes more. We spent thirty seconds in some spots and eternities others. However, the way we sat never changed: my arms holding her from behind; my chin resting on her shoulder; her hair brushing my cheek as she turned to whisper in my ear. That night, The Amphitheater belonged to us. It didn't matter if anyone else was there, or if someone else was listening to those songs at the same time, because we let our passion for one another float freely through the air alongside those music notes and lyrics that would become the soundtrack for the rest of our lives. The melody that came through the speakers drew us into each other. We continued to sway back and forth gently to the familiar tunes as we snuck kisses out of the sight of all. We melted right into the mix of people, only showing ourselves when the light from our beaming faces shone more vividly than ever before because, together, we are the brightest. While pressing my forehead against hers and holding the most beautiful face that I have ever had the pleasure of letting my eyes come to rest on, I chuckled softly to myself because thoughts of her rushed around my mind so quickly that they drowned John Mayer out.

I felt her hand squeeze mine, and I saw a look on her face that would forever change my life during the moments that I whispered the answers to her questions. Her eyes focused on mine, and her smile stretched so wide as she nodded slowly in reaction to the stories that spouted from my lips. I told her that we are finally free to be what we've been yearning to become. We looked deep into each others eyes, smiled, and took a deep breath. There's nothing stopping us now.

The drive back to my house was spent with me in awe, questioning whether or not what I had just experienced was real. As the car weaved through the slower traffic and the speedometer began to rise, my hand, once again, found its way home to hers. With each gentle kiss she strategically placed on my finger tips, she extinguished the feelings of fear and doubt that had polluted my mind for years and years prior. She's been helping me to open my eyes. It makes me wonder how I could've been looking at the world in such a singular way for so long. She has changed everything.

I'm discovering myself in my exploration of her. I've learned to let go, to enjoy the moments rather than [over]analyze them. My writer's mindset has been replaced by one of an artist's: instead of obsessing over the details, I'm looking at the overall picture, the way things come together to take shape, and the aesthetic value of what we share.

Upon my realization of this truth, I now know that I am a writer no more; I am simply a man in love, free to fully revel in its meaning.

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 20:35:35 GMT

We have become expert ramblers of aisles and halls; always finding ourselves surrounded by volumes of books, walls of art, or a profusion of groceries. It's easy for us to lose the rest of the world this way. We sneak off to hidden corners and there our footsteps engrave our names into the floorboards. This way, we can come back and reclaim these spots as our own. However, we aren't always lucky enough to ward off the gaze of strangers, but this doesn't curb our inhibitions.

We stood next to the rack that played home to my bike for hours prior pushing off of one another reminiscent of elementary school days as students and teachers walked past, each sneaking glances at us. The entire day spun in slow-motion, and we had the time to shape every word until they dropped from our tongues like polished gems. I stepped back to admire the sunset trapped in her eyes while the afternoon heat slowly forced the sweat from our foreheads that washed away the dirty memories of the past down the drain once and for all. All this while a goodbye kiss from moments before still stood wet on my lips, settling into the lines of my mouth, and the taste of her remained rooted between every tooth.

The rest of the world would have to continue without us for the few moments as we parted from each other because we were busy making molds of the moment, laying down tracing paper over the scene and outlining our intertwined figure. We'd come back later to fill up the space between these lines and add detail; but for now, we're trying to get things just right. It's hard to imagine that things could possibly get any better but they will. We already have the sketches to work from. We've already outlined something great. Soon, quick dashes will become broad strokes and the picture will be complete; and it won't be long before this is the same picture that we create every night.

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 17:38:39 GMT

I have drifted through towns, through friends, and through my life so far. I am a ship always prepared to set sail. I am a voyager constantly in search of the writers of messages left in bottles. I have been here for almost eight years and all but a few are still strangers to me because I've kept myself a stranger to them. I used to glide about completely detached from everyone I met; and when they'd move too near, I would move away. I had become much too buoyant to be tied down by any one place. Yet, when I think about her, I never want to leave. With her, I am getting a sense of home again. I've been building a nest in her shadow so that I always have a place to return. I've been constructing it from soft touches, spoken word, hand-written letters, pictures, sketches, and saved text messages. However, here, I am still little more than a drifter. My thoughts stretch farther than my arms will reach. I count down the days until I can move on and take her with me.

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 16:20:01 GMT

Everyday, I walk a little deeper, my breath taken away with each step by her unparalleled beauty. I feel much too alive to sleep much anymore. I have always known I was a dreamer, but recently I've found tranquility in the promise that I no longer have to live in only dreams of her.

When, at last, I felt her near, I felt the warmth of her breath traveling freely on my skin, and her arm glide softly along my shoulder as her fingers laced themselves in my own. In that moment, when her hand first grasped mine, I knew I'd never want to hold another.

In the distance, we'll find a place; there will be room for the pair of us. The minutes between then and now drag on, and the miles that separate me from her sometimes seem endless, but fear has no hold on my heart, and I am no longer afraid to sing.

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 06:26:03 GMT

It wasn't all that long ago that I held her in my arms, and in a
moment that seemed to pass instantly - almost as though it had never
happened - I decided to make a point to never forget it. So, vividly,
I recorded every detail that I could on my mind - her face pressed
against my chest and her eyes closed. The moment was peace. The
moment was safe.

I smiled, muttered out some soft thanksgiving, and we laid on her
bed together, teasing and giggling over unimportant things - just
the way it should be.

In her quiet eyes, I've found comfort.

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 21:26:11 GMT

Living for each minute, since I have know her, with my entire heart. I stop for every flower to take in the scent, a constant reminder of the happiness that she brings me. Everything is soft and slow; now this taste improves through the view that comes with her. Thoughts of holding her beneath each moon bring the boldest of smiles to my face. I remember the green of the trees I feel affinity for, and I am reminded of her skin so soft, and, still, I bud from my finger tips; touching her, I start to bloom.

Have I not known happiness until now?

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 18:05:08 GMT

I've become a master at admiring her when she doesn't know I'm watching. There's a subtle sensuality in every slight gesture she makes; even the bleached bits of hair seem to sensually shift about when she turns to look at me, as if to draw me closer. Nothing is ever forced: the way she moves, the things she says, the looks she gives all flow naturally and un-dauntingly. She's the most real person that I've ever known; yet, I still shudder at the touch of her because it's impossible to believe that she really exists (and even moreso that she's mine.)

There is a bird trapped inside my chest. Its wings span the width of my body and when her golden brown eyes fall upon me, they began to violently beat against my ribcage. It's always like this when I first approach her and I've grown accustomed to the erratic fluttering. I sometimes wonder if she notices, if the button up shirt stretched across my chest heaves outwardly in a way visible to her masterful eye.

Nothing escapes her; she sees everything. I'm in awe of the way she possesses the world and makes it her own. The trappings of everyday life don't ensnare her; instead, she captures and pinches the details between eyelashes, examining them for all their worth. Everything gets registered, sorted out by significance, and filed away for later use. When she looks at me, I know that I, too, get filtered this way. As her eyes graze the contours of my body, I can sense my parts unraveling and slowly pulled upward under the penetration of her gaze. I'm never losing myself to her; I'm losing myself in her. Whatever she sees in me is more than I've ever seen in myself. For this, I shall spend the rest of my life just trying to repay her because the way she looks at me is like no other.

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 19:41:20 GMT

For the first few minutes after those words were uttered, she and I didn't speak at all, seemingly entranced by each others gaze. Sure I'd been at a loss for words before, but this time, as I looked deep into her golden brown eyes, thoughts rushed through my head without real insight, instead they served as a soundtrack of white noise to the silent film we were creating together.

There's a certain exclusive soundtrack to these and those days, each one playing over in my head with each new beat.

Sure this won't be the only sound I'll hear from now on. I know it's only part of the rhythm, but each new time the drops fade and the ascension begins, I get a bit less pessimistic, knowing that this time, I finally feel at home.

It was then that I realized exactly what I wanted, and why things had been so bad before her. I brightened up more than I could ever remember and looked further into her eyes, past where I usually stop out of fear of the uncertain. I saw there, the base of a mountain that I was ready to climb, knowing well what was at the crest. I couldn't see it, naturally, being much further below the elevation than where the clouds would permit such a view, but in my heart I knew, and in my mind, in the part where I remember my paramount goals, I could feel, that this was worth it. Take a breath, this is the beginning of an entirely new expedition to the really unfamiliar; the beginning of the true next phase. A self I knew for too long was passing on and giving way to a slate on which I'll write my future.

Holding her hand, I started on.

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:17:12 GMT

I squeezed her hand as she slept in the back seat, and she smiled at me half-dreamingly; like a sea diver gazing upward from the ocean floor, I lightly tugged on the line to bring her back in. Masterfully, she maneuvered her lips towards mine and as our mouths grasped one another, I saw my reflection in her eyes. I appeared so small, so insignificant; yet, when I'm with her, I feel like a giant; I forget that I'm only a man. I'm reminded again by her touch. Afterwards, as I pull away, I can still see my reflection. However, this time I see it differently.

Everything was falling perfectly into place and, for the first time in my life, I understood. I am discovering the true meaning of happiness, and I now know where to find it. I know where she rests her head and how she takes her tea. I know the way she smells at sunrise and the look she gives when the world stops spinning.

I am desperately hoping I've found my niche in the world.

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 17:27:46 GMT

It was a beginning. Out on the street, hand-in-hand, the sun setting in the foreground, the weather refreshingly mild, it was like opening the first pages of a book of short stories. It was all there before us, written out in the way our silhouettes moved across one another and mimicked our every action. The setting of this story didn't matter. It could have been any busy street in any major city at sunset. The difference was the people: her and I; the pair of us casually walking towards the sunset with no hurry to go anywhere; because when you finally feel safe with someone, he or she becomes your everywhere. The stories would always be there. We were walking through them page by page. We somehow already knew how things would end up. There was no need to skip ahead. Instead, we were enjoying finding out how we'd get there.

The evidence is in our hearts, and the pieces are beginning to fit in our heads.

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 15:15:36 GMT

The yellow lines on the street skip by like a metronome, not a single beat is missed; and I can feel my heart swelling; overflowing the walls of empty eyes now deprived of a beauty unparalleled. We've pulled a hard left and knocked this city clean off of its feet; we've already crossed borders and boundaries and the sound of distance echoes off the harsh city skyline. A flock of black birds flees from the rooftops and takes flight to guide us along our way. We are the creatures of night always in search of a place to rest our wings; but I've found my place set permanently in her eyes and I'm ready to come down from these clouds and land in her arms. Nevertheless, there goes another yellow line and then a thousand more.

Sun, 13 Jul 2008 03:32:39 GMT

And there she stood.

"The way you stare at that map, you'd think you were looking for a treasure," she teased.

"I think I found what I was looking for," I spoke without hesitation and joyous that she had returned as unexpectedly as having been here to begin with. I stood up and stepped closer to her smiling, and reaching out, I brushed my hand briefly across her wrist. She smiled and looked away, toward the sky.

In the most unlikely place, it seems, I've found those dazzling eyes - the treasure, hers (and one I longed to share).

Fri, 11 Jul 2008 16:59:41 GMT

A blur, more daunting than before, perhaps also a little clearer than before, collapsed into something soft, certainly much softer than the inevitable concrete that I was prepared to slam into. Choices, made and unmade, met face-to-face, hand-in-hand, with the continuous search for some degree of truth, for some degree of love. Without realizing it, maybe without needing to, a choice was made, and a search came to an end.

I smiled, looked deeply into her captivating eyes, and finally spoke with more certainty than ever about where I...where we were headed, taking her hand in mind - this stranger who completed me so unexpectedly - "I've got nowhere to go but here."

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 15:50:39 GMT

Such good sleep, like last night, begs of death, not out of any hopes to end a bad life, but when a good day comes to such a good close, one begins to wonder if anything will ever top it. That is what resting in peace is all about, after all. She knew how to take me there and bring me back to life again, as well.

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 13:44:57 GMT

Every once in a while, I catch myself staring up at the sky and wishing on a star, and it seems like they really do twinkle a little brighter every time I glance up. Still, it's hard to see stars in the big city, and mostly, if anything up there is twinkling, it turns out to just be a plane rushing in for a night landing. You want to see stars; you've got to get out of the city.

"Stop," and she did, turning with a slight grin, "I don't know anything about you, but something about that has to change. You wanna get out of here?"

At first, she averted her eyes again, embarrassed by her inability to hide that lovely grin. Her smile grew larger, though, and, stepping toward me, she spoke softly not with voice but with a simple, "Mmhmm," and with glistening lips closed tightly and her hands finding their way to mine, we took a risk together.

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 12:47:10 GMT

I’m shaking. I’m shaking and the wind knows it. As does she, and dear God, she might cradle me, my city, with her towering arms reaching into the clouds and bringing them lower to caress me within those reflections of steel and glass, and a face I know all too well might meet me too. I’ll go on shaking. I’ll go on shaking, cold and afraid, but I will never go on shaking without you somehow holding me still – shaking with me.

Mon, 07 Jul 2008 05:27:07 GMT

I'm inviting you closer with each time I breathe.

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 15:28:14 GMT

What should I do with all the days and hours
that must be counted before I see your face?
How can I charm the interval that lowers
between this time and that sweet time of grace?

Thu, 03 Jul 2008 20:36:21 GMT

You and I we lay like fireflies retired from those summer nights,
All bottled up as victims of our child's play.

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 20:08:02 GMT

Your absence has gone through me,
Like thread through a needle,
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 21:53:35 GMT

My knees locked, and my hands thrust forward preparing
for my fall, guarding me against the pain of the inevitable
concrete.

Still, maybe sometimes, our legs give way for a reason,
and we fall right into where we should be.