I tore out my heart's seams to make room for you,
and I reshaped them around the tangle of your limbs around mine,
over the beat of your heart and your drum.
We don't keep sugar on the counter. We have the big canister of sugar, and we do have a sugar bowl, but we keep it in a cabinet when not having parties that involve coffee consumption; neither Adam nor I use sugar in our coffee.
For the last two months, the sugar dish, white with a silver dragonly-wing pattern, has resided on our counter.sindrian
uses sugar in his coffee, you see.
There are big seismic changes when you fall in love, yes, and when someone becomes a part of your life, your world. But then also there are little things, like a sugar bowl left out because he will be there and he will want sugar, he will be here today and tomorrow and Wednesday and will want sugar.
This morning, curled around me post-sex (and we curl around each other like a root system, like mangroves, like we grew together complementary and twining), he told me he loved me, and following with "with all my soul, with all my heart, and with all my might" - in Hebrew, from a prayer.
It is remarkable, this. We did not really see it coming. We thought we'd just date while he was in town, have fun, and then if he comes back we'd reevaluate. Heh. No. He quickly and bewilderingly and wonderfully became part of my heart.
This is an amazing world, truly.
He will be here for one more month, and then he's off to Cincinnati to finish his degree, to Oakland for an internship (we hope). I will keep the sugar bowl out.