Last night this man plays guitar for me and i am tired enough to go home in his arms and sleep all night, too, in spite of snores that rip reality in half if i am all the way awake, and that is how i know i love him, too.  The way we sleep.

I am a romantic and fall in love f a s t.  I also am a man-eater and make men love me.  I do not know what to think of who I am when I am loving him.  It helps not to and just show up and dazzle on the dizzy beauty of where I live, especially when the fall on delmarva is blue and spinny and ripe still with mudflat mild.  Life is good.  I can walk with my feet on the earth with him too which is different for me.  And that is because he works fucking hard.

Harder than me and that’s rare.  I am working on my ego and as always, devastated by my hubris. This is separate. I feel it is an honest, fair assessment to say I work hard as fuck.  I am also having fun and not thinking about work at all and feeling the places in my soul that have worn thin and tired from working so hard and this happens because of him.  And in that, he feels like a cloud on day 3 of summer satiation just salt headed and feeling free.

Or he can.   It makes me ready for rest and long winter sleeps.  I took one last longing look at Laguna Beach in November and realized when I did it’s been months since I looked on that hashtag.  And my heart didn’t long with missing it.  My heart is more than satisfied living the life I love right here at home.  Which is my way of saying, damn I look forward to the future.

I am not so sure about the modern stories the rest of the world is so eager to look on and in doing so, cowrite.  That sounds judgmental and it is because I am, and that is part of the ego work I am curious with and deconstructing.  Mentioned above.

Quietly, quietly, lightly so~quietude is good.

 

what i am listening to, my new favorite jesus singers

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