Dear Blank Page
Are you a symptom of a larger problem? I need to feel in order to write but lately my thoughts have been exhausted by routine. Where’s the romance in watching TV? I need a little mix up, a kiss with a fist.
Dear Letters I Wish You Would Write
You make me want to try a little harder, move a little farther and breathe a little easier. Your smile is contagious, your laughter infectious and I am in love with your dimples. I want to kiss those dimples. Your rich brown eyes, yours lips and your dark hair. I look at you and wonder how I got so lucky. You make me feel like Christmas morning.
Dear Initial Signs of Summer
Thank you for the early sun and the pink sky. Thank you for new freckles and the excuse to buy unnecessarily short shorts. You inspire me to walk on the shady side of the street and make the thought of raspberry lemonade all the more refreshing. I need the smell of coconut and warm sand on my skin. I cannot wait for your lazy days and fireworks.
Dear Part of Me No One Knows
We walked for miles, avoiding puddles with the determination of a nation. Soaking wet, all you said you wanted was a decent cup of coffee and to get out of the rain. London was calling but all I wanted to answer was you. It wasn’t the right place or the right time but I knew that there, in the most dire of circumstance, it was bliss to be with you.
Dear Stories of Yours
On a perfect day these would be stories of ours, stories that we could tell at parties or in letters to friends far far away. They would be stories with sentences reserved solely for me to finish but today, today they are stories only you can tell. My own raconteur. And when you tell them you make them sound like mighty adventures worthy of time worn pages and this, this is something I love about you. Your artistry and the way you can convey. You tell stories that colour your life in the most interesting patterns and I can only hope to one day be a splash of pigment on a brand new page.
Dear Quiet of Night
We often ignore how beautiful you can be. Coming over that hill onto the water, it was as if everything around us vanished and all that remained in that occupied space was still, peaceful air. Quiet like that, well it startles your soul and makes you feel alive in a way that flashing lights never could. And when you lay on a bed of sand beneath a ceiling of constellations and satellites you honestly think you understand whatever it is we’ve been killing ourselves to know. Poetry, philosophy, science and supernovas; history in the making as we gaze up at old light.
Dear Open Road
Stretch out, set out down the paved four hundreds. I’ll roll my window down and cut through the air with sharp hands. “How did we skip all the other numbers?” Overpasses turn into white picket fences and you can see for miles and miles and miles.
Dear Lion Eyes
You are brave, you are kind. Big, bright and dancing. Hunting for something we all thought was gone.
Dear Atlas Hands
Let’s trace our route like we’re reading palms, open faced and full of lines to be followed. You take the head, I’ll take the the heart and our lives can carry on across these seven pieces of puzzle.
Dear Restless Thoughts
Everything around me has been standing still and established for some time now. Set in their way. I too have taken root here, gridlocked and growing, but my thoughts are rebellious and try to move me on, line by line.
Dear Things I Can’t Stand
People who walk too slow when I’m trying to get somewhere. Not being the first person on public transportation. The one before, the one during and the one after. How easily I can indulge all of my own complexes. Indifference. Forced conversation. Him and her and them and it. “Maybe.” The urge to rub something in someone’s face just to feel like you’ve won. Notches on bedposts.
Dear Things I Can’t Change
The weather. The past. Your mind when it’s set on something. Your eyes when they’re set on someone.Timing and the way it makes or breaks everything. The choices other people make. The days of the week. How inevitable reality is and how difficult it can be to adjust to.
Dear North Star
I don’t say it enough, but I do love you. Now that I’ve been under this sky long enough to notice, I understand what you are and why you matter. Guiding light. Polaris, I recognize your faults and I admire your strengths and although it took me a while to get here I can see you clearly now.
Dear Thunder Love
There you go again, rumbling low, roaring strong. I think we both know that this is something beyond us. Tell me what you want to do to make the electricity vibrate.
Dear Easy Revelry
Gin and tonic, king queen jack. Between the drinks and the subtle things we dance on rooftops, soak up the attention. Young eyes are hungry eyes and you wonder, “if I wish hard enough will this feel any different?” The build up. Last calls and cat calls.
