Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream.

I have loved you in front of mountains, in the midst of busy city streets. I have loved you in the valleys and the hills, where the wild things sleep. I have loved you here and here and here. I think I always have. I think I always will.

Sleepy mornings, his eyes still cloudy. He wraps himself around me like ivy, his hands making slow circles on my back. If I could paint a picture of contentment, it would be this.

As long as I live, I’ll carry you everywhere. Maybe one day you’ll read this, maybe you won’t. I won’t apologize for caring so much. I can’t hide my heart. I never could. If you read this and it doesn’t move you, don’t tell me. If you read it and it does, tell me what shifted in your soul and I’ll tell you what shifted in mine. If there’s ever a time and you and I drift apart, I hope you know there was someone out there who loved you with their whole heart. If you’re left with these letters, I hope you bring them out from time to time and think of the girl with the shaking hands and the over flowing heart that wrote them.

“I can’t believe the world is so big,” you say, “and somehow I’ve got you back beside me.” I think of the distance between your hand and mine and I never want to be farther than this. I tell you I didn’t want to write about love again, that it sticks like honey in my teeth. You ask me what I dream about and all I can do is point to your chest and say, “you.”

Today I’m celebrating my 1 year with the person who makes every place feel like home. Wait for the warmth. For the tenderness. For the vulnerability. Wait for the soft things. They come, I promise they do. And when they happen, they change your life.

The girl I was sits in the backseat of my car. Eyes vacant, hands vibrating. That is not to say she runs my life. Only that she sits in the back of rooms, lays her head over my heart at night until I feel her take root. Until her weight is my weight. The girl I was bites her nails all the time, her mind anywhere and nowhere. This is not to say she still lingers, only that my nails are shorter this week than last. The girl I was can’t sleep at night, and walks half in and out of dreams. This is not to say that I am asleep, but I have a hard time deciding if I’m awake. The girl I was tucks her anxiety between her rib cage like a fluttering bird that beats its wings in time with each breath. That is not to say I dislike birds, even as it touches my bones. That is not to say I’m better. That is to say, I’m trying.

Last week my love and I went to a nursery and bought plants and fresh peaches together and he kept his hand in my back pocket. Some things really are better than dreams.

However long time is, I want him for it.

I am less girl; more hands and teeth. Stuck like honey to your lips. You say my name and I unravel. Throat, hips, thighs. This is an offering. Take and take and take.

Send me a line and let me write poetry off of it pls