" . . .my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine . . ."
I always loved Pablo Neruda. I thought he had the most amazing way of painting pictures with words. He entranced me, and all of his poems had a slow, languishing pace to them that drew me in. They were like brandy, warming me, slowly reaching my fingertips.
What I did not understand, is how they would affect me after I had met Sam. How the words would somehow carry more weight. And now I realize, as trite as it is, my whole world has changed. Songs are different, movies - a million things. I no longer see things through just my perspective, just my eyes. My world is different. On even the simplest levels. And all of it, each small shift - has been for the better.
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
that this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
6 years ago