you are the only poem.
writingsforwinter: you are the only poem i ever wanted to write. i used to be the kind of writer who lived through words; now i seek the poems in the inner lining of your skin. here i stay within your ribs and clavicles; i am encircled by your silently beating heart. there are whole galaxies in your soul.
my favorite part of work, besides the fun people that liven up otherwise monotonous tedium, is when events feed me dinner. tonight: tortellini in pesto sauce to start, prosciutto and rosemary bread, with a side of roasted asparagus and baby carrots. grapes and dried apricots to finish. lovely dinner.