So much beauty in here. Those loves we hold on to those loves we outgrow. God the one that hurts that we have to let go of or we will grow crooked - just for out of one of those. The first one that I have a picture of. 2009 in his white shirts not looking at me hunched over his typewriter - my only you really even when he is all different men. The one on the beach with the sand in the kitchen. The beach I take my daughter too that was ours and then ours and then ours.
Beautiful. I have also tried this: “I try to collapse all the men I have ever loved into a singular you—it’s more gorgeous that way—and then write a poem. But the poem doesn’t come.”
Two lines keep tugging: /For him, even a piece of me has always been something to love./ And /What does love look like when you have a whole life of it?/ These open up whole portals for me.
So much beauty in here. Those loves we hold on to those loves we outgrow. God the one that hurts that we have to let go of or we will grow crooked - just for out of one of those. The first one that I have a picture of. 2009 in his white shirts not looking at me hunched over his typewriter - my only you really even when he is all different men. The one on the beach with the sand in the kitchen. The beach I take my daughter too that was ours and then ours and then ours.
My only you. God isn’t that the truth. thank you xoxo
Beautiful. I have also tried this: “I try to collapse all the men I have ever loved into a singular you—it’s more gorgeous that way—and then write a poem. But the poem doesn’t come.”
Always trying though. Thank you for being here xoxo
Yesss, the ‘you’ hardly ever remains a consistent person for me either. Gorgeous as usual. I think our hearts ache the same way. 🩵
They absolutely do
Two lines keep tugging: /For him, even a piece of me has always been something to love./ And /What does love look like when you have a whole life of it?/ These open up whole portals for me.
I love a good portal xoxo