28 June, 2008

I’m never homesick when he’s here, no matter where we are or what we do.  I suppose that means something significant, but it possibly just tells you I lost home so long ago I can’t remember what it smelled like.   This smell, his new smell, makes me angry.  It’s not home, this new smell.   But it is him, in all his solidness, his solid smell, his solid smells, the embrace that is so right.
Crushes, I’ve always found, make for great writing fodder.  Love, to be in love- this is the death of all creativity. Hiding in caves of blankets, between the sheets, between the seconds- to be perfectly, utterly whole- with no desire except to drink in everything- all at once, over and over.


4 Responses to “We”

  1. smoothpebble Says:

    Your photos on this minimilast site are gorgeous! I like your writing too.
    Don’t forget to sign up for this please….your photos are so beautiful they need to be shared!

  2. smoothpebble Says:

    I meant to tell you too that your writing makes me curious and yearning for the story behind the story…..

  3. Eli Says:

    I love your photos too. Is your desktop as minimalist as your web page?

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