You have my heart...

You have my heart.

I wouldn't know how to take it back, even if I wanted to. 

I feel like I could love you forever. And although there is an entire list of reasons why I like you, I love you for none of them. I just do. It's like a universal humming that makes it all OK. The high of being near you, and the low of worrying about our future; the good that is your patience, and the bad that is my anxiety; the light in your eyes and the darkness within each of us; the warmth of your embrace and the chill in my heart when you're not near. It is all submerged in this cosmic wave of balanced and steady... something. Something clear, but with a violet hue. With star-like sparkles all around... and it smells like... baked apples and clean linen. 

It has to be love. This has to be the most accurate description of love, if there has ever been one.

You have my heart, my mind, my soul, my everything.

And I hope I never want it back.

Take care!

The Illusionist

You see the poster, you buy the ticket and you go inside.

It's just smoke and mirrors.

The room seems to change decor each time you shift your gaze. At first it's a library, full of books - old and new, exciting and intriguing, then it's a playground, then a chess-board, then a playground again, with swings and carousels and a sandbox. Then it's a home; for a brief second, it's Heaven. and then it turns back into a chess board. And he's always there - guiding you, urging you on, trusting you to keep your cool.

It's just smoke and mirrors.

He wears a heart on each sleeve, and you can never tell for sure which one is his own, and which one he borrowed from a book on card tricks. He'll take your own and pull its strings and tear it to shreds, only to put it back together again. And when you think you're safe, that the show is over and you can go home, he'll tell you to "pick a card, any card".

It's just smoke and mirrors.

You pull a card out from the deck hoping with all your might that it's a simple 2 or 3, but when you flip it over, you're rendered stunned and speechless, because the card in your hand keeps morphing back and forth between the King of Hearts and the Red Joker, and your heart sinks and skips a beat with every transformation.

It's just smoke and mirrors.

Surely you could leave. But will you? Knowing that it's all smoke and mirrors is what keeps it safe, right? But that chill in the air is real. And so is the road you took to get here, which is what makes the illusion even more believable.

It's just smoke and mirrors.

And you are compelled to stick around till the end of the show, when the mirrors come down and the smoke clears and you get to see the man behind the mask.

Take care! 

When we're fourty...

*Just a few lines I wrote before I met you...*

Why is life such a heinous witch?

And how did the simple decision to start talking to some guy I had found on a forum years ago change my entire perspective on men, relationships and the human race, in general, so much?

I wonder if your eyes light up when you smile at our little inside jokes...

I wonder if you daydream about that moment when we'll meet, be it next week, in 10 years, or when we're old and grey. I can't wait to take our wheelchairs for a spin in a park, by the way. (you choose the park)

We are yet to discover a subject on which we disagree completely, and yet it feels like we've talked about everything under the sun.

I wonder who you'll end up with, and I hope, with all my heart, that you'll fall madly in love with her. I hope she'll spark new ideas in your mind every week, and make you smile every day. I hope she has a sweet voice you'll want to hear in the morning, even before your bitter coffee. I wonder what her name is... I don't think you've met her yet...

And you'll turn slightly sad when she tells you something funny one of her guy-friends said that day, and then blame it on your hard day at work. "She doesn't have to know." But she knows... And she can't really tell if she's happy or sad that you can't put anything important into words. But she will. She'll be the kind of girl who tells you exactly what she thinks or feels, because she won't be afraid words will make it real. She'll know it's real anyway...

Oh I hope you find one another.

That way, by the time you're fourty, you won't have missed what could have been the best years in a relationship. You'd have been through it all. The fun 20s, the chilled out 30s and you'll just begin to really organize things in your lives; together.

I hope she's pretty. So pretty, I wouldn't dare to look at her. So pretty, all your friends will envy you. And faithful. I hope she'll never do or say or even think anything to hurt you, ever. And if she does, she'll have me to answer to. Just... Just put her on the phone.

Oh, we're worlds apart, but you're so much a part of my world, that I feel it would collapse if we were to miss even one week.

You'll be hard to explain, that's for sure....

Take care!