Today is Tuesday, November 19th, 2013. And I want to talk about you. I want to talk about the clenching and fizzing in my stomach right now as I imagine wrapping you up in my arms and having you close again. I want to talk about the ache in my chest when I think about how it's been ninety days since I last kissed you, since the day I saw you cry as I let you slowly drop from my arms, then hands, then fingertips, and drove away, looking out the window to see you let your head fall into your hands. It's been ninety days since I sat on the floor of the airport and felt my entire being rebelling against getting on that plane and recrossing the thousands of miles that separate us. I want to talk about how I tuck those thoughts away and instead smile as I think of giving you piggyback rides through the park, and kissing in front of churches, and diving into cold pools, and touching you softly as we lay unclothed in your bed, and laughing so hard at your jokes that I'm sure I'm making a fool of myself.

I want to talk about you. I want to talk about you and me. I want to talk about you with me. I want to talk about how you say things that stop me in my tracks and make me reevaluate the truth. I know you, but I can never quite predict your opinions or reactions. You surprise me in this really heart stopping, sometimes refreshing, sometimes eerie way.

I want to talk about how beautiful you are, god, let me please talk about this. Your mind is an intricate, thrumming place that I love to get inside and peek in its dusty corners. I'll try not to leave fingerprints, but I hope you'll forgive me if I do. I think I'm the first person to see some of these places, and I respect them with a reverence. And your heart, your heart... it's an open space that fluctuates and adjusts around me. I know it's learning how to make me fit, but considering that, I'm very comfortable here. It's not a maze, not a grand palace, but not run down either. It's warm in here, slightly musty in the back rooms but in a nice way, while the front is breezy. It's cryptic at first, it's easy to question where one is when first entering. But it has an essence so very you that it's impossible to lose your way completely. I've wandered enough to memorize some of the walls and walk around with a timid freedom. I don't think I would ever dare stride through with arrogance, but I hope to gain confidence the more I explore. Your outside is just as breathtaking. Sometimes I look at the pictures of us together and I stare at your face like it's a puzzle I can solve, because you are indeed the prettiest girl I have ever seen and it astonishes me that yes - you are real. You have this smile that I try to coax out as much as possible, and eyes that are pleasant and warm. Have I told you how much I've always loved brown eyes? It's a colour that suits your irises, that suits you. The image I get when I imagine looking into your eyes is that of wrapped up in soft blankets in a field at dusk. You have beautiful hair that you love to complain about, but I am forever adoring of how it sticks every which way and makes you look - yeah, I'm going to say it - pretty **** cool. Your body is fit and perfect and I'll tell you again, I am so, so jealous. Shadows reach around you to try and feel your shape, rain trickles across your smooth skin to try and kiss as much as it can reach. And when your body tangles with mine, it's magic. You are warm and soft and my fingertips can't help but want to trace a map over you, pressing into their favorite places and trailing across your frame as lightly as a sigh. Your voice, if I had to pick, is the thing that best represents you. Its most frequent setting is this strong, hardy tone that gets your point across with as much bluntness as the words you choose. When you're sleepy it becomes soft and drawling and muffled. When you have to act professional, it heightens and becomes cheery and sweet. When you're touched, it turns lovely and breathy and exquisitely feminine. You are embodied by these sides of you, and there's more I'm yet to hear and learn from it. All of it is beautiful in a way so uniquely you that I smile just in Knowing.

I want to talk about knowing you. I've always wanted just to know you, from the day we met. That was the prevailing thought: How to Know You. Now every day I am given glimpses into you, and every day I'll know a little more, and I couldn't be happier.

I want to talk about you. I want to talk about how much I love you. I love you the way lights love to pool on the sidewalk. I love you the way ink loves the abstract. I love you the way sand loves seashells. I love you the way trees love sunlight. I love you the way airplanes love the sky. I love you with a ferocity and a tenderness and an affection it halts the motion of the world for moments at a time. You bring words and metaphors to mind in a way no inspiration could, and the next second you stop all thought dead and leave my head buzzing pleasantly empty. I used to refuse to write of love; now my hands know of little else. You've changed me, profoundly, intensely. What did I spend my thoughts on before? Now, I just want to talk about you.

it's almost funny how you can control your own thoughts and your own feelings. it's almost funny that it was this easy. but i dont think about this as often anymore because i am so happy. not ecstatic not elated. just happy. i am not eternally sad or mad or frustrated. just happy. i have not bathed myself in ***** water for weeks now and i have used soap in all the right places and made sure my taste buds were scrubbed. i feed myself with respect and i cuddle myself with people who make me laugh so hard i **** myself and they are the ones who make me think how i ever got bad. i reevaluate the things i say i regret doing, and now i do not regret doing or saying or feeling any of those things. they happened for a reason and now i am here. just happy.

i remember when you handed me a cloth
and a bucket full of soap and said:
"scrub."
i started to cry and said:
"you're treating me like i am Cinderella!"
you got so mad i hid in the living room closet
for four hours before you realized
i was gone.

i remember going grocery shopping with you
just so i could ride in the front of the cart.
you would always let me eat a chocolate donut
from the bakery section and i would always
make sure to be finished it by the time we got
to the till so you wouldn't have to
pay for it.

i remember the first time i stole a pack of gum
you didn't realize i had taken it until you watched me
unwrap a piece and stick it in my mouth right in front of you
when we got to the car.
you took me by the wrist and made me apologize to the
cashier, you told me i was bad and to never
do that again.

i remember being little and not wanting
to go to school because i didn't
want to leave you. sometimes you would let me
stay home and cuddle and watch movies with you
when i felt especially sad.

i remember you giving me piano lessons
and telling me to count out loud while
i practiced, meanwhile i had already
memorized the entire piece and was
making up new songs of my own.

i remember you telling me that i could always
tell you anything, that you would never judge me,
that you would always be there to listen and
comfort me. i remember believing you
and i remember the first time i realized
you didn't even know you were lying.

i remember sitting in the backseat with your
head on my shoulder while my Father drove you
to the detox centre. you kept saying how scared you were,
lighting cigarette after cigarette, squeezing my hand
so hard it cut off my circulation. your tears stained my sleeves,
and your vulnerability stained my heart.

i remember deciding it was time to lose you, finally,
on my own terms, for i had so many times felt as though
you were already a walking crime scene without the yellow
tape to ward people off. i tried but i couldn't make
a home out of that. it was time to learn the meaning
of safety, again.

i remember hearing your voice over the phone
after not hearing it for what felt like years,
and although you were a mess of tears and withdrawal
and ******, i could hear the love in your voice
and for once i felt my heart fill
with the temporary thing it has always wished for
consistently.

boredom is a tight shirt,
a blanket shamefully pulled over it
boredom is how whiskey learns how to taste better,

chum steeps in the waters constantly,
the fragmented dregs of flesh dance and so we catch them cautiously
with our gnaw of impatience

boredom is waking up early and laying in bed for an hour or three,
occasional outbursts of "fuuuucccckkkk" - and then it's coffee
rolling cigarettes out of abandoned butts - a true old stogie

television, ******* turned down in volume,
***, movements of no virtue
more whiskey and then the pillow and then things get interesting