Champagne, dark chocolate and deep chats on the roof with the roomie tonight. This is love.
"And the sun and the moon sometimes argue over who will tuck me in at night. If you think I am having more fun than anyone on this planet, you are absolutely correct."
"Is This A Date Or Are We Friends?" an autobiographical anthology written by yours truly.
Bleary eyed and defunct he clammers over sleeping siblings and parents, stumbles out the door empty bucket in hand and heads for the creek.
The water is the same colour as the black dawn sky and the insides of his eyelids as he concedes to the urge to close them again, bucket filling.
He wrestles the weighty load and turns to face the hill upon which his home stands.
Panic ensues as he sees orange flames engulf the humble house where his family sleeps. He drops the bucket and launches himself up the hill, towards the blazing homestead.
Much to his exhausted relief, upon cresting the bank he recognizes the inferno to be a brilliant, burnt harvest moon, resting upon the horizon.
Things are not always as they seem.
This is where my heart is.
I have yet to meet anybody that I love more than I love my dog.
I hope that when she asks about me, you don’t leave anything to the imagination. I want her to know how alive and absolutely enamoured with the world I am. I want her to know that I never once met a human that I didn’t love in some way. And I want her to know that you let that go. Absolutely out of nowhere.
And I wonder if she’ll sleep at night knowing that you could do that to someone. And I wonder if she’ll cripple under the weight of your expectations. And I wonder if she’ll worry that you still love me.
And if she does, I only wish I could tell her that she has nothing to worry about because there is nothing in the world that would move me to take you back. Absolutely nothing.