Poetry, poetry, poetry. Everything wrong you see make it alright..make it like...~ Tamia
Lost medium I believe, and I miss it so much. There once was a time where i'd get the most beautiful most heartfelt words ever inked. No by email, text, or any of that. But in his own writing. His penmanship that would demonstrate his love for me, his nerves visable in the letters and lines, inking something so personal with the intent of giving it away...with the intent of giving me a part of him on paper that I'd keep forever. .. I miss that deep down to the core of me. His words on paper were the most beautiful....the most expressive....I'd give anything....
But that's not what this post was supposed to be about....? Or was it...
But my favorite poet...Pablo Neruda, has been heavy on my mind recently...oh what it would feel like to open a letter again, see the beautiful words on the page in his writing...SEE his feelings for me wrapped in those words...hopeless romantic I am....total sucker for it. But the true romance...that passion, that sheer feeling and emotion...that seeing the actual writing knowing it was written with only YOU in mind can convey....god i miiiiiiiss it. I want to read something again that brings tears to my eyes, butterflies to my stomach, that feeling of my heart beating faster then slower then faster...from knowing not only that someone feels so strongly for me...but thought enough of me in this digital age to write. Write til his hand hurt, write with me filling his thoughts, so strong he can still smell me, taste me , feel me....and spill all that into the pages...that passion on paper. Leaving me his heart on the page.
“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda
Words...his words...I miss them.