I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.
LANG LEAVI want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.
LANG LEAVThe second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.
LANG LEAVHands are no longer hands. They are caresses. Mouths are no longer mouths. They are kisses. My name is no longer a name, it is a call. And love is no longer love – love is you.
LANG LEAVYou can’t borrow from the future, to make up for the past.
LANG LEAVOur love story comes to me in waves, in movie stills and long summer afternoons spent under a sky of incessant blue. I still think of your eyes in flashes of color, your hands in a frenetic, feverish blur-your smile a mosaic of light and shadow. I still find myself lost in those moments of abstraction.
LANG LEAVSummer was felt a little more; in autumn I began to fall. When winter came with all its white, you were mine to kiss goodnight.
LANG LEAVThe distance from you is measured in how far I’ve come.
LANG LEAVSome Time Out The time may not be prime for us, though you are a special person. We may be just two different clocks, that do not tock, in unison.
LANG LEAVThe greatest heartache comes from loving another soul, they said, beyond reason, beyond doubt, with no hope of salvation.
LANG LEAVI used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
LANG LEAVDo you remember the song that was playing the night we met? No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.
LANG LEAVOf all you’ve used against me, the worst has been my words.
LANG LEAVWhere the strangers we meet, take us down one way streets, and forgetting is something we’re taught.
LANG LEAVI don’t think all writers are sad, she said. I think it’s the other way around- all sad people write.
LANG LEAVTo love is a dare, when hope and despair, are gates upon it hinges.
LANG LEAVI had no way of knowing, when I was sitting alone in that tiny bedroom, that in just a few short months, I would meet the love of my life: a man who lived across the ocean from me, in a little house by the sea.
LANG LEAV