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“She asks me how long I’ve known youAnd I can’t answer...

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“She asks me how long I’ve known you
And I can’t answer because that’s not the kind of question you answer with
“forever” because that sounds like what I should say
She asks me how we met
and I can’t answer that either because the truth doesn’t seem right
And a lie wouldn’t seem fair

I have dreams of your hands and the way your clothes fit and
hundreds of other things that I just can’t find
and the way your words crawl down my back
gives me electric shivers and I want you to read to me
for days
to make up for all the love we haven’t yet made
So I stare at my phone as if it will take flesh
and grow strong, dark arms and one crooked finger
and suddenly be sitting shirtless on my bed playing the banjo.

But it doesn’t
So I collect photographs of you as if I could pin them down on a corkboard
like grasshoppers
You call me lover and you call me muse so I will sing to you of your
twists and turns and drive you time and again off course
You call me the only one and you call me by my name like it was 
a political statement
and I don’t know what my own voice sounds like when it’s not saying your name
Just one soft syllable that aches to lodge itself under my fingernails 
and nestles against my ear at night…”

He is so proud that I’m a poet and I’m sure he loves it even more that most of the poetry I write is for him.

This boy is the epitome of everything I want. He is brilliant, kind, interesting, multi-faceted, talented, sexy, funny, romantic, and wonderful. I am convinced that he is my soul mate and he knows that I’m his.
We actually met on tumblr, funny enough. I followed him and he followed me and I would send him anonymous messages telling him how handsome I found him, how interesting he seemed. I was so nervouse that he wouldn’t take to me. But then we started chatting sans-anonymous. And I added him on Facebook, and we chatted there. And I gave him my phone number, and we texted constantly. We fell for each other hard and fast and it’s lasting.
Long-distance is hard. Everybody knows that. But when I hear him sigh 3000 miles away, it makes me realize all over again how badly I want him to be in my life. I want to feel if our hands fit together as well as our names do: Paul and Celia. Life isn’t always fair, but he makes me feel so beautiful and worthwhile. He tells me that he wants to shout to the world how much he loves me when most boys don’t even want to be seen in public with me. He is one-of-a-kind and he is absolutely perfect for me. He writes me letters and draws pictures for me and tells all of his friends about me and texts me “good morning, beautiful” on days when I wake up feeling awful. He is complicated and extraordinary and I want to know every single molecule of him. He always tells me that he’s going to propose to me at a Frontier Ruckus concert (our favorite band) or on an elephant or with a song from his banjo. But he knows that’s in the future. And we have so much to look forward to.

mine: rejoicedespite.tumblr.com
his: talesofwoodsmenpete.tumblr.com


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