Posts tagged #romance

the word project recap part three: the muse.

af4d5a4f1adb05b0b19d6cbae3bc65edLove, not-love, heart-swoon and heartache. sweep (v). "but tell me all of the truths about your wild and beating heart, and I will tell you all of the stories I could ever think to keep you smiling and keep you near."

boundless (adj). "You are not mine to bottle, you are no one's, not even hers."

timber (n). "I’ll pitch the tent and you make the fire, I’ll meet you here in the wild mountain landing of your heart."

contagious (adj). "Your spontaneity sets me off-guard, it is alarming, and I get nervous, but the spark and the heat that rolls on my skin, the ignition I feel in my chest, the rising of the hair on the back of my neck when I’m around you, it makes me want to follow your abandon all over this town."

radical (adj). "You make me want to make a print and leave a mark, you make me want to colour the earth and fill it with song. After talking to you it’s like everything sings, and I like the world like that."

composition (n). "Then again, you are in every page and every piece  - sometimes about you, sometimes in your honour, sometimes a rebuttal to a previous conversation with you - but you’re always there, even if regrettably, because, if not the hero, you are at least always the muse."

youth (n). "We were just / Two kids, we were/ amazed to be in love, it was/ sweet and light, pure, it won't/ happen again, that kind.."

vary (v) "We are different and not the same, we are from far apart and we have gathered, glued and fused just the same."

fused (v). "I want to be leashed to your wandering, where we are free and full and light."

hush (v). "I want to climb inside your quiet. It threw me off, that’s certain, the quiet in even your hands and your ease in the silent moments that drift in and out of our conversation."

ventricular (adj).

a939b43316bb0eae5b340fee8bdcf766The heart wants what it wants, and it manifests with such funny persistence. Like a trumpet sounding, like the ringing of a bell, like icy cold water poured on your head. Like the swell of the Pacific, salty-sweet and swift. Sometimes like a flock of cranky geese, or a herd of sluggish cattle. Sometimes with clanging pots and pans, right over your head, in the middle of a deep, deep slumber. Sometimes it brings forth an ache or a fever, or an echo throughout your house that won't quite go away. It can seem so unlikely or so complicated, contradicting, so opposite of what you think you should be longing for. And sometimes it is the purest moment of clarity, like (as it was with you) it had been there all along waiting for you to notice it, like an old friend in your livingroom, reading a book and waiting for you to get home.

divulge (v).

d1d1cfc8f8c0dfcc2ba85f06e8b45146Tell me every thought you've ever had, and every story you've ever known. Write down every word you've ever heard, every joke that's crinkled your eyes, every smell that reminds you of a place you used to visit. Tell me everyone you used to be, every one, I want to know. Whisper to me your fears and dreams and worries, your disappointments, all of your hopes. I want to write books about your first thoughts in the morning, and every time you've stubbed your toe. How many times have you been broke, down to the penny, and for how long? And when you were broke, who fed you and kept you warm? In which drawer do you keep your favorite t-shirts, crumpled and holey? What happened that time you broke your nose? All I want is to know all of the corners and walls that make you up.

sweet (adj).

be1612947d9e8f8272bd4578bf981918You are, to me, every lovely thing: honey in my tea, a visit to any shoreline, soft sheets for winter's nights, a walk through the misty morning before the city gets out of bed, the smell of cedars and the mighty oak through the woods, passages of my favorite books being read aloud, the warm buzz of being pulled near.

familiar (adj).

835b6f7d195d8e3691e532cca8a31da9The number of times that we have met I can count on merely a few hands. You are brand new to me, and your laugh is like a secret you've chosen to share.  You are brand new to me, and you bring out a type of story telling from me like I am in a hurry for you to know every corner of my life. You are brand new to me, but there is a softness in your smile that feels like a well-worn sweater, and I'd like to wear it more often from now on.

debris (n).


06b92988f4ff83e769be0042b779e61aI haven't said I was sorry: for all of the glasses I broke in the kitchen, the scratch in the hardwood floor from swinging the couch around to better see the TV; the watermark on the table from so many cups of tea when I would write by the window, the lotion smears on the un-lackered table by my side of the bed; how poorly I could tuck in those jersey sheets; how much space my hair products took up: in the shower, under the sink, in the second drawer of the vanity, in the shelf in the closet. I can't seem to go through the house without sparking something on fire, I know, the drips of coffee on the cushions of the couch, rogue blonde hair strewn on the ceramic tile, bobby pins left here and over there. I would have liked to leave behind a softness when you think of me and maybe a mark on your heart, but the scratch on your truck's bumper will have to do.

[true story].

[Psst this is my 600th post! Thanks for visiting xo].

token (n).

ab4adc30e78469ae9492f1ac6a437717There seems to be nowhere that I am that you are not. You travel with me, like the ink stain on my left palm, like the nervous blushing that returns to my cheeks more often than not. You are in the bite of the ocean and the kiss of the breeze, you are in the sweet summertime trees and winter's flannel sheets. You are in other people's words and stories, like a code. Like a sign.

feel (v).

63248623d288d84cf3b078520282a49eIn any given day, I feel many things; groggy, to start. Achy, and the pull and cracking of my back and shoulders as I stretch tall and bend. I may feel anxious or worried, or I may feel charged and optimistic. I could feel motivated or discouraged, I could feel heavy or light. Some days I feel bright and conquering. There is the giddiness from conversations over lunch with a good girlfriend. There is yearning when thinking of someone far away. There is the feeling of heaviness when there are things left unsaid. My favorite feeling is you, when you're sitting beside me on a park bench in June, telling me about what it would be like to be a sailor, or at night, the feeling of your hot skin, the feeling of your slow breathing on my neck; the feeling of your proximity, that's what I like best.

Posted on February 14, 2013 and filed under the word project-.