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I want to live in a sprawling house at the top of a mountain, where I can watch the sun sink below and then float to the surface of the sky, the air dusky and hazy but still somehow so clear.
I want to watch storms play with trees like twigs, crack lightning like whips to make the bruised clots of clouds thunder by like scared stallions. I want to hold you closer to me, let the candles be our stars tonight as the rain begins to rush down.
I want to let afternoon meander into evening while I lay with you in the hammock in our backyard, let it swing gently in the breeze, the only sound nature: no cars, no television, just you and me and life. It will be night suddenly, cold and crisp and effervescent, and as you stare at the stars, I will stare at you (because you are my star).
I want to fill our sprawling house with children and grandchildren. I want to create with you, to try to make someone else so I can hope they feel the feelings I feel with you.
I want to go on adventures with you—no, I want you to be the adventure I go on. I want you to be my constant inspiration, my eternally beautiful muse (except you already are). I want to please you, make you happy, make you proud, make you know how I love you, make love.
And in our sprawling house with our tribe of children—and grandchildren—when our lives are too busy to do much more than pass each other in the kitchen or on the stairs or at the front door, when by the time we each can finally climb into bed, we find the other already asleep…when that happens, know that I still love you, know that I will let my fingers trail against your body as we move past each other with too many things on our minds, because I can’t bear to see you and not touch you. We will see each other again, but, until then, let this embrace, let this kiss, speak against the time we have missed.
We will be with each other again. We will grow old together. We will watch sunsets and storms, hear laughter and life: we will know love in all its forms. I love you.
I want to live with you, but only because I could not imagine living without you.
I want to watch storms play with trees like twigs, crack lightning like whips to make the bruised clots of clouds thunder by like scared stallions. I want to hold you closer to me, let the candles be our stars tonight as the rain begins to rush down.
I want to let afternoon meander into evening while I lay with you in the hammock in our backyard, let it swing gently in the breeze, the only sound nature: no cars, no television, just you and me and life. It will be night suddenly, cold and crisp and effervescent, and as you stare at the stars, I will stare at you (because you are my star).
I want to fill our sprawling house with children and grandchildren. I want to create with you, to try to make someone else so I can hope they feel the feelings I feel with you.
I want to go on adventures with you—no, I want you to be the adventure I go on. I want you to be my constant inspiration, my eternally beautiful muse (except you already are). I want to please you, make you happy, make you proud, make you know how I love you, make love.
And in our sprawling house with our tribe of children—and grandchildren—when our lives are too busy to do much more than pass each other in the kitchen or on the stairs or at the front door, when by the time we each can finally climb into bed, we find the other already asleep…when that happens, know that I still love you, know that I will let my fingers trail against your body as we move past each other with too many things on our minds, because I can’t bear to see you and not touch you. We will see each other again, but, until then, let this embrace, let this kiss, speak against the time we have missed.
We will be with each other again. We will grow old together. We will watch sunsets and storms, hear laughter and life: we will know love in all its forms. I love you.
I want to live with you, but only because I could not imagine living without you.
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For my girlfriend
Are there any parts you think need work or more explanation/fleshing out?
I guess this is in a similar vein of thought and expression to
Also found on tumblr.
Are there any parts you think need work or more explanation/fleshing out?
I guess this is in a similar vein of thought and expression to
You should date a guy who writesDate a guy who writes. Date a guy whose fingers are stained with ink, whose pockets are filled with pens, and whose eyes smile and dance with curiosity. Date a guy who notices things like the colour of your hair and the way you have your coffee, not because he has to, but just because it’s a habit of his to notice things. Date a guy who can barely get around a computer, but is expert with his word processor. It doesn’t matter; he prefers pen and paper anyway.
Find a guy who writes. You’ll find him just outside a library. He’ll like the idea of being outside, on the verge of a thousand worlds, a few steps away. He’ll love the idea of being outside, on the brink of one world, a few carefully placed letters away.
Or he will be inside a café. He doesn’t care whether it’s boutique or Gloria Jeans, moodily or well lit, though he likes it there especially when it’s raining. He will be the one with a notebook in one hand, pen in the other,
Also found on tumblr.
© 2014 - 2024 BlakeCurran
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Stop being so damn talented! BLAKE! This is just beautiful! asdhjkl;