Love: l,l,l and then an “uh,” then that soft v resting on your lips and then you’ve said it; but what have you said? My love for each and every thing deserves its own name. I love him like a mumble or a stutter or a stumble when I want to be loving him like a force of nature or a pair of wings. But really it's a selfish need, to burrow under his skin and steal his heartbeat.
Sometimes I am at peace on a highway at sunset listening to a song say “goodbye” and suddenly I’m open and he lies gentle in my heart, not tugging, and that I think is when I truly love him.
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a chronicle of ordinariness and randomosity
