Posts under ‘Lurve/Luff/Like’

Before the rest of my life


Wow. Mr. Chen took this picture of me a few days before I met Cade.

Before the rest of my life

Why I loved every minute of the Long Island beach disaster

David Beer, my favorite college professor that I never had, told me, “You don’t know if you really love someone until you go camping together.” Dr. Beer meant the sleeping in a tent, bathing in a river, slapping gnats off your face, and roasting canned pork and beans over a fire kind of camping. That’ll test any relationship.

Why I loved every minute of the Long Island beach disaster

Idiot boyfriend

*I love the Jimmy Fallon song “Idiot Boyfriend” and Cade took this into consideration when he bought me what is by far, the weirdest birthday gift I’ve ever received:

Idiot boyfriend

A love story

The girl said, “I think we should take a walk.” She thought, “The days have grown long without our taking the time to notice. I’m boxed indoors all day. Everything else around me is just now coming to life, they say, but I couldn’t tell you if it’s true.”

A love story

Blooming


Funny how
brunch becomes
a sampling of silks.

Blooming

Rate-A-Date: Cade

Occupation: Corporate grunt at an investment banking firm you’ve heard of.

Rate-A-Date: Cade

I’m so in love, I make it acrostic

I think I’ve never heard that said so
loudly, boldly, heavily.
Old words are new - none of the other
variegated moments of my life
eclipse old words-cum-new words,
you now the first from the bottom.
O, love, your new old words
Undo my fear, my hesitation, my memory.

A new lease, you are my love

A new lease, you are my love

We’re home

Re-entering New York, rain laps the asphalt, pooling in the parking lot. The suitcases at the baggage claim carousel - the one marked for an airline my fellow Flight 1334 passengers and I didn’t fly in on (our carousel is broken and that burly airport worker is tired of hoisting each piece of luggage in the air and yelling, “Whose is this?”) - are wet. Some drenched.

We’re home

Ready when you are

Perhaps
I should
be maybe
tentative.
But when does wearing
my heart on my sleeve,
open and oozing each
zipping infatuated thought,
a self-inflicted wound
to some extent,
get realized
as merely who I am,
how I love,
and what I will do
as long as you let me?

Ready when you are