And you will believe in love
At night I hold him close, take in the breath that expels from hips lips, making his breath a part of me.
We returned from New York on Sunday, the air crisp, stark in contract to the almost balmy (at least to me) Miami atmosphere. Even though the sky was almost dismal, everything bathed in gray, the air was fresh and spoke of optimism. We strolled hand in hand up the walkway to his flat and I jokingly picked him up in my arms and carried him over the threshold. It probably sounds like a somewhat ridiculous thing to do, yet after just attending a wedding it was one part cute, one part romantic with a dash of hysterical thrown in. This is what he does to me, makes me jovial, laughing for no reason at all, laughing just because I am happy here by his side. He'll read the paper or a magazine and I will throw grapes or something of the like at it until he yells at me in the most endearing way possible. It takes a certain panache to be absolutely engaging when complaining, pouting or being argumentative. It is not that he does any of it in a negative context; part of it is a joke the other part is just a simply sweet nature. I think he is much more of a man than anyone gives him credit for.
Since we have returned, we have spent most of our time indoors. That is something that is not very new to us, but it is more than rolling around in the sheets all day, although there is always a good amount of that transpiring. I am not sure if I have ever met someone that I can talk to so much. I can be shy at times, closed even more so. With most people there are only so many things to say. Even with my parents, who know me better than most people do, there are still lulls in the conversation. Of course, lulls in conversation are not necessarily a bad thing; the two of us have our share of comfortably silent moments when we are in the same room together engaging in independent tasks or the times when we snuggle up, holding each other tightly, simply because we want to be close. However, there is not that awkward silence where you mentally kick yourself in the head, trying to think of something to say.
Linde and Manna on the birth of their daughter.
-Juska-
We returned from New York on Sunday, the air crisp, stark in contract to the almost balmy (at least to me) Miami atmosphere. Even though the sky was almost dismal, everything bathed in gray, the air was fresh and spoke of optimism. We strolled hand in hand up the walkway to his flat and I jokingly picked him up in my arms and carried him over the threshold. It probably sounds like a somewhat ridiculous thing to do, yet after just attending a wedding it was one part cute, one part romantic with a dash of hysterical thrown in. This is what he does to me, makes me jovial, laughing for no reason at all, laughing just because I am happy here by his side. He'll read the paper or a magazine and I will throw grapes or something of the like at it until he yells at me in the most endearing way possible. It takes a certain panache to be absolutely engaging when complaining, pouting or being argumentative. It is not that he does any of it in a negative context; part of it is a joke the other part is just a simply sweet nature. I think he is much more of a man than anyone gives him credit for.
Since we have returned, we have spent most of our time indoors. That is something that is not very new to us, but it is more than rolling around in the sheets all day, although there is always a good amount of that transpiring. I am not sure if I have ever met someone that I can talk to so much. I can be shy at times, closed even more so. With most people there are only so many things to say. Even with my parents, who know me better than most people do, there are still lulls in the conversation. Of course, lulls in conversation are not necessarily a bad thing; the two of us have our share of comfortably silent moments when we are in the same room together engaging in independent tasks or the times when we snuggle up, holding each other tightly, simply because we want to be close. However, there is not that awkward silence where you mentally kick yourself in the head, trying to think of something to say.
Linde and Manna on the birth of their daughter.
-Juska-