Category: love

Storyteller.

All I really know is that we were on the phone and he told me that he wanted to tell me a story.

I was happy because I knew in that moment that he could have chosen to be on the phone with anyone, but he chose me.

And there I am listening to a story about a man with only one thumb.

But he is laughing and I am not.

He says, ‘I guess you just had to be there.’

It’s not that. I am not laughing because a big part of me is sad. I’m sad because I am thinking and preparing for a moment a million moments from now – when he doesn’t tell me these stories.

–S.

Black Boots.

2014.

I’m driving home.

It’s 2:32 in the morning.

It’s chilly in Texas now.

More late at night than during any other time of the day.

I wonder what the weather is like where you are. I turn the radio on, and I hear Justin Timberlake taking back the night.

I wonder what you’re listening to nowadays. Are you playing your piano?

I turn the radio off. I don’t want to take back this night. It’s beautiful. I want to burn it into my memory forever. It’s truly been special and I haven’t done anything special in quite some time. When I am wearing my faux leather black boots, I feel like I can do anything. I wore them tonight. If we still spoke, you’d know about them. I would have sent you a picture. I was dressed in all black with touches of gold jewelry. I felt sexy and mysterious all wrapped into one with a ribbon on it.

I laughed a lot tonight. Real laughter. I meant all of it.

And there was this moment when I was driving home, and the air was blowing aggressively against my face, that I missed you.

I really really missed you.

I wondered if you were at work maybe thinking of me too.

I wanted you to wrap your words around me and bring me warmth the rest of the car ride home.

I wanted you to lay me down on my pillow and sing me to sleep.

Your deep low timbre.

I would do anything to hear your smile – even over the telephone.

I don’t even need to see it, it would be enough.

Just to know that it was my smile. For me. Because of me.

If it’s cold where you are, I wish you warmth.

I wish you the sun.

–S.

I remember those faux leather black boots. I wore them into another love story. They were my favorite boots to dance in downtown. Eventually – one of them started coming apart and I would use black tape to keep it together. I was wearing them in dimly lit bars and clubs, but also didn’t give a fuck if anyone noticed the tape.

I loved those black boots. I LIVED in those black boots.

RIP Faux Leather Black Boots.

You are the Sun.

You are the sun creeping up and over the city early every morning.

You are staying up too late during summer break.

You are laughter when I didn’t know it was possible.

You are the warmth deep in my belly reminding me how lucky we are and have been.

When I was younger – I didn’t understand how important it was to be around you – to be present for all of your big moments in life.

Thank you for all of the lessons I have received in return for those I have taught you.

You are the breeze during every spring, the heat in every summer, the wind in the fall, and the cold air coming out of our lungs every winter.

You are everywhere.

You brought life into our family.

A promise saying that each day no matter how hard or long ends in at least a laugh or two.

I didn’t really know what it was like to REALLY love a person until I met you.

–S.

Life after You.

2014.

For a while there, I didn’t listen to any music that had the piano in it.

And that’s my favorite kind of music.

I would imagine your long fingers hitting the keys and all of the people that were there to witness your song.

All of the girls probably swooning over your musical abilities.

I hated them, you know. I hated you.

But as I am writing this – a piano is serenading me.

And you no longer have that hold.

See,

you don’t get to take music.

You don’t get to take real love away from me.

You don’t get pianos and the sounds they make.

You don’t get any hate.

Even though it never feels like it, I know that there is life after heartbreak.

Music still plays.

And the sound of letting go is the most beautiful note I’ve ever heard.

–S.

Flutter.

Letter from 2014.

Grandma,

I get it now. A crush. Butterflies. Real feelings. I’ve always thought that the feelings I had for boys in the past were real. But that’s it – they were feelings for a boy. Feelings for a man are different. It’s a different ball game. A ball game that I don’t know any of the rules too. Nor have I practiced.

I can’t tell you what is going to happen with us in the future because I don’t know. However, I can tell you that what I feel now, in this moment – and all of the moments that have come before it with this man.

It’s like life is all that it ever was – but everything is heightened. I feel everything deeper. I smile wider. My laugh is louder. The curve of my spine straightens as I stand higher. It’s like I’m in on this secret that only I really know – and it’s the juiciest secret anyone has ever kept.

I get it now. The butterflies. It’s like when he is not around – they flutter softly in remembrance of the times that we have had. When he is near – they flutter wildly. Almost as if they want to burst out because they are excited to see him too. They want to embrace him with me.

When I haven’t heard from him or we have introduced tension into our relationship – it’s as if they are dead. Their wings fall to their sides. Colors fading.

We are not together,

but it feels like I am his.

I am humbled by this experience.

Thankful.

Sometimes I wonder if he is my one.

If this is my forever.

Regardless – I have made a promise to myself that if I have to encounter pain in the future because of our divide then I will greet it with a gratefulness for all of the things he has taught me.

I love you.

I feel like I cry easily now. Not necessarily from sadness. Just life. A good emotional mess. And I imagine that you are living in my tear ducts. Then you make your way onto my eye lashes and slide down my face. This is how you are watching the world now.

Thank you for this treasure.

–S.

You.

There’s only one you. I could never find you anywhere else in anyone else – because there is only one you.


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That’s the magic. That’s the light.

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They might laugh at my jokes like you do and like a lot of the songs you do and enjoy a tall, dark, and handsome man like you do, but they could NEVER do it like you.

Any of it.

Simply because there will never be another you.

That’s all there is to it and all there will ever be.

You.

You.

You.

–S.

You’re Poetry.

You’ve never really seen yourself.

You’ve seen yourself in the mirror, yes.

But you haven’t REALLY seen yourself.

You haven’t seen how your face lights up when you laugh. You haven’t seen yourself smile when you hear a nasty song for the first time. You haven’t seen how peaceful you look when you sing. You haven’t seen yourself dreaming. Or sleeping. Or how you look when you orgasm. You haven’t seen how you look at someone you love. You haven’t seen how you look when you eat your favorite things. You haven’t seen how euphoric you are at a concert for one of your favorite artists when you’re singing along with the rest of the crowd.

You haven’t seen yourself writing your poetry. You haven’t seen the sense of peace that falls over you when you’re paining. You haven’t seen yourself reading a really good book. You haven’t seen yourself completely free while crying and laughing. You haven’t seen yourself watching your favorite scene in your favorite movie. You haven’t seen yourself holding someone you love.

So, how can you really tell me that you’re not beautiful?

You’re poetry.

You are breathtaking.

You are nothing less than breathless.

–S.

Missing the husband I’ve yet to meet.

Though you are not here – I must confess,

that I can feel you holding me in the moments between being awake and being asleep.

That’s where I am loving you.

That’s where I still believe that you exist.

That’s where I still believe you might be on your way.

Holding me.

Kissing me.

Touching me.

Loving me.

–S.

I Called You.

Excerpt from years ago.

I’ve had your number memorized by heart for years now. The last few years – I haven’t actually used it for anything. We are over. We don’t talk anymore. When someone doesn’t live in the same city as you in certain ways it is easier to get over them.

I never have to see you at the grocery store. I never have to pass by you on my way to class. I never have to see you at the bar with another girl. Friends and family won’t tell me that they talked to you or saw you. I don’t have to go through those feelings.

Something was making it hard for me to fall asleep two nights ago. The truth is that I haven’t thought about you in a while. And then out of the darkness of my room – your phone number manifests itself into my head. I get this feeling that I can’t shake. I have to call you. I really don’t want to go there. I don’t want to hear your voice. It’s been so long. Too long.

And then my fingers are flying across my phone. My phone is lighting up. My memory is dialing your number. Your phone is ringing. Of course I blocked my own number, so you couldn’t see it and muted my end of the phone call.

Creep, I know.

It went to voicemail and some random girl explained that she couldn’t get to her phone.

I hang up.

It gave me a sense of comfort that the number didn’t belong to you anymore.

I was trying to fall asleep last night when it hit me – I was wrong.

The number I dialed two nights ago was so wrong. The right number came to me. I dialed it again, blocked my number, and muted the call.

You answered.

My breath caught and my heart sped up.

You answered after five or six rings because I woke you up. It was about 1:30 in the morning and your voice was heavy with sleep. You kept saying hello and then you hung up.

I wanted to cry. When we were mad at each other – I would always call you with my number blocked, just so I could hear your voice before I went to sleep.

I was a teenager, in love, and dumb.

I never told you it was me and you never talked about the blocked phone calls you’d been receiving.

I think that you knew. I’m almost sure that you did.

I wanted to cry because that voice was still so familiar to me after all this time. It had been the soundtrack to many of my summers, but that boy was different now. He became a man. I was different now. I became a woman.

I hope that life is treating you okay.

And I wonder if you ever get a feeling that you can’t shake in the middle of the night telling you to call me – maybe I would pick up. Maybe you’d hear my voice again and it wouldn’t have changed.

–S.