All the love letters you never read.

Jan 15, 2008 21:29

Today I spent dwelling on how incredibly blessed I am. This whole week actually, starting Sunday. I always fall in love on Sundays, not that I have ever fallen out. For all the disasters the week may hold, though I hand you over to the clenches of the office and your studies on Monday, you come back to me fully on Sundays, making it my favorite day. Sundays are simple and pure. They hold the kind of love associated with handholding and quietly whispered secrets laced with blushing honesty. A flickering candle lights your face and traces each muscle. Your skin is all over me, as it should be. I want you everywhere. I smile to myself; I want to kiss your neck because I love the smell of it, just as I love when you laugh as though nothing could draw you from this exact place. You are your mother's son. You read proverbs at bed time with your arms wrapped around me, your voice as smooth and soothing as it is constant. I feel like a small child, loved and embraced before I fall asleep to the rhythm of your breath warm in my hair. The best lullaby. For no amount of money in the world would I trade those moments. There could be no richer than I. Thank god for you.

I am now working at Bella Flora, an interior design and flower shop. It is sophisticated and yet very comfortable and I already feel like I've worked there for years.

I love Sinta's happy posts, perhaps more than most things. Continue!
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