cheap sky blue pillowcases – still creased from their days in a package

adorn my bed in a celebratory mood

their fresh lines existing only for a bedfellow’s sake.

an innocent new pillow rests besides mine

waiting to imprint every crease on his face,

every indention in his skull,

to breathe deeply the smell of leaves and campfires that seems to emanate

constantly from his tanned flesh.

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our love like the hills reaches

meet me at the mountaintop

where the storms and snowflakes

will be no match for the blaze

beneath our fingertips

the whole world will be no match for the universe

circulating

from my lips to yours

the stars creating and recreating

new constellations

with every breath we exchange

planets orbiting every whispered word

traveling from the tip of your tongue

to the deepest reaches of my silhouette

and the sun

the ever-burning sphere keeping me alive

it rests behind your eyelids

I feel its warmth even as you sleep

curled up on the side of my bed

unaware of the vast universe my love has become

“meet me at the mountaintop” I whisper

perhaps there you’ll be able to see

how far our love reaches.

I’ve always hated writing about love. I’ve always found it to be the most difficult project when it comes to writing – I hate everything I write about love when I read it back to myself – I find it cheesy and unoriginal. But…when I’m in love I want more than anything to record what I’m feeling and experiencing. Thus I will once again attempt to bottle up some of the emotions flying through my body, some of the thoughts straight out of a romantic comedy that occupy my brain these days.

I feel the tagline for this relationship will always be “I knew when I met you.”

I knew the day I met him that I wanted to date him. No, I knew the day I met him that I wanted to be around him. I even said to someone, “I don’t care if he won’t date me, I want to be his friend”. Of course my heart was screaming “Fuck no, I want to be all over him” but he was someone I knew no matter what I wanted in my life for as long as I could convince him. The day I met him my goal was to convince him that I was as right for him as I felt he was for me.

Now I know it didn’t take much to convince him. No, he didn’t feel the innate magnetism I had felt on our first unofficial date, but once we spent a bit more time together he was hooked. He was subtle, but I could tell in the tiniest moments that he was leaning towards me – not away.

When he told me to text him if I was bored while I was on vacation I knew something had clicked for him, at least a bit. And before I knew it days had flown by and we had our first kiss after he asked me flat out “Would you be interested in dating?”

There was no uncertainty, no wondering what we were doing. He was straightforward, honest, to the point. I liked that. I loved that.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was falling in love with him, but it happened – and it happened fast.

I write this today 3 weeks into the relationship.

I know some of you are now rolling your eyes, you’ll find this absurd, the writings of the honeymoon phase of a new relationship. But I believe in gut instincts, I believe in following my emotions and trusting what my body is telling me. I take very seriously the things I feel and I have always prided myself on being in-tune with the emotions of those around me. I know how I feel, I feel how he feels, and I firmly believe there is something here.

I asked him at one point to every now and again verbally remind me how he feels about me. It’s merely something I need in a relationship and I don’t want it to cause problems as time goes on. He obliged easily to the task.

That night he told me that I mean a lot to him. The way he spoke, the way he held me – I could feel there was something more behind those words. There was more he wanted to say, but I didn’t press. I didn’t need to press.

The next morning as we kissed goodbye he told he loved me. It was the most natural thing in the world. I was shocked, but it was perfect. He had always felt right in my arms. I remember uttering those words one night as we were together. As he pondered if other couples were as affectionate as we are so early on and I said I didn’t know, but that “this feels right”.

I stand by those words. This feels right. It feels immensely, terrifyingly, extremely right.

Of course I could be wrong. Time changes. Life changes. But for now – there’s not much I wouldn’t do to keep this going, there’s not much I can for see going wrong. For now I just want to revel in the natural sense, the feeling of something so “right”, the idea that you can meet someone and know.

I knew the minute I met him: he was someone worth my time.

If we make it where I think we’re going – this is for you – if we don’t….I’ll have fond memories of how I felt because no matter what I’m experiencing something rare and magical:

I met you over a book: my eyes glanced up as a frame suddenly entered my surroundings

and you confidently stuck your hand out “You must be Hayley”

and as you went to purchase a cup of coffee I smiled to myself

I was over-caffeinated and nervous while you remained calm and confident.

We hugged goodbye and said yes, let’s

let’s see what happens

and I swear to you I knew as I left I had met someone important-

I found myself at the cafe I worked at gushing to co-workers about this guy I had just met,

this gentleman, this kind-hearted adventurous soul, this man I wanted desperately to care for me.

From that minute on I worked my hardest to let my walls down, to open up to you, to convince you, to show you what I had felt the minute I met you, the minute I shook your hand in the most official of forms

and then you bought me ice cream – you smiled at me a little brighter – you texted me when I was across the country and I knew your phone was never in your back pocket –

you said to me: “you know what we should do? we should plan a date”

you said to me: “would you be interested in dating? would that be something you’d be interested in”

and all I could do was grin from ear to ear

of course, of course, of course

I repeat over and over in my head when my lips meet yours, when they wander to the scars on your hands, the curve of your neck, the bone behind your ears

and I whispered: “can I call you my boyfriend?”

and the honor was yours in the blink of an eye

and my heart did somersaults every time you introduced me as your girlfriend, every time you held my hand as we walked down the street – or to a Film Festival – or to a show downtown, every time you tugged at my ear with your lips, delicately kissed my blushing cheeks

somersaults and I’m still flying

it hasn’t been that long – when you get the chance to read this it’ll be ages from now

if you get to see these words it means you’ve finally taken a deep breath and uttered “I love you”

if you get to read these words it means I’ve destroyed every last wall around my heart and I’ve admitted I’ve been head over heels falling for you since the moment I hugged you goodbye that first night.

If this goes where my heartstrings seem to be running – well then……my answer is yes.

her old tattered sweatshirt leans away from her slight frame

as she stares at the used books scattered across her hardwood floors

cars pass old apartment windows

and the wind brings tree branches to kiss cream city bricks

the room is dark

save for the reflection in her vintage glasses

and the pulse of the keys beneath her fingertips

type type typing away

urging the universe to speak for her

as she whispers into the silence of an empty apartment

an apartment all her own after the walls soaked up

each passing moment of love, sex, and arguments

each delicate syllable of lovers falling out of love

and a cat screaming for attention in the midst of it all.

this is a portrait

a portrait of what it must be like to look in on my life,

to see me sitting as I am,

having fallen far out of love, leaving pieces scattered between the cracks in these floorboards

sitting in my almost see-thru leggings pondering the current affairs of my life.

half a bottle of wine and a playlist of lilting phrases and loving images

all I can see if the possibility of more love,

new love,

the sense that the top of the wall will come – the route I’m climbing will come to a fulfilling climax

but I always forget – after the climb comes the fall,

comes the trepidation of returning to the ground

having felt the rush, the excitement, the fear,

knowing what I can accomplish,

and yet doesn’t the light dull once you’re back on the dirt?

doesn’t the ache only intensify once you’ve known what you can achieve?

aren’t I emotionally unstable merely because I’ve pushed myself to the extremes

over and over again….

I crave love. I actively seek love.

I fall in love in an instant

because I know it’s power. I want it’s power.

I think I’ve found it.

I felt it the moment I met him.

The question is: will he let me climb?

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