my love,

 
 

There is no place without you, there is no breath, there is no hope or joy or -wait. This is crap. This is drivel. This is beneath me. This is not what you signed up for.

 
 

This is not what I promised you. This is not what was on my mind on the tram over Randall’s Island. This is not what was on my mind when I kissed you for the first time in November. This is not what was on my mind when we walked from Lark St to the Blockbuster on Colonial Ave. This was not what was on my mind when I wrapped my arm around you for our first dance as a married couple. This was not what was on my mind in Paris avoiding the hustlers at Sacre Coeur. This is not what I promised you when we looked at the bones of this house and thought we could raise a family here.

 
 

You were never hope or a place or a fleeting thought. You walked into a room and we went outside and never came back. You walked into a room and everything became something. You walked into a room and I disappeared.

 
 

You walked into a room and we were, as if we had always been and will be, always and forever

 
 

happy twentieth

me