City of Legends

William has been sifting through our correspondence in search of poems for inclusion in his upcoming book ‘As Such‘. By now you’ve probably established that (a) we like each other a lot (understatement of the century); and (b) there is nothing we don’t share with each other (n-o-t-h-i-n-g).

One of the many adorable Williamisms that I’ve had the pleasure of growing accustomed to, is the way he thinks out loud to me… something which strikes me as an extension of his natural ability to communicate, together with the supernatural connection between us (I keep thinking ‘how incredible God’s plan?’.)

Anyway, last week as he re-read our old letters, he re-sent me whole conversations we’d had, to which he annexed footnotes about his present thoughts on them. How adorable?! One of these ‘recycled’ conversations included a poem I’d written 6 years ago, upon first discovering him on Authors Den in 2002. Here it is, in the context of our conversation of 21 November 2007:

I was going through some old writing from 2002 when I found something I wrote shortly after I ‘met’ you on AD:

 

observing
from afar
admiring
at a safe
distance
i fall
at the feet
of the god
sexually
wise
subliminally
innocent
he fingers me
without touch
i am a flame
trembling
feeling alive
wired
and needing
desperately
to smoke
the moment.

It’s dated 28 February 2002. Evidence that you’ve been with me all along.

I found my own words so revealing, so telling. . . because I’ve been known to speculate about love with the best of the skeptics among us. A brief glance through most of the things that I’ve ever written will bear this out. I had been one of the cynics, one of the cautious; my walls had been built a long time ago.

But when I fell in love with a man who I consider to be, quite simply, the other side of me, it was as if I remembered how to love again. Swept off my feet by the sheer power of emotion, when we initially got together, the whole thing took me quite by surprise.

I still cannot completely comprehend the depth of feeling and the synchronicty between us because much of it is wholly inexplicable. Inexplicable and miraculous and passionate and wicked!

Hell, half the time I’m amused at my own romanticism. The other half, I’m so madly in love with the poet that I can think of nothing else. Nothing.

Life is good. William is awesome.