it's really happening.

I am a tangled mess of stress, worry, anticipation, and excitement. I am trying to learn to let go of my need for control over every detail, and just go with the flow. It is exceedingly difficult. I'm afraid when this all culminates, I will burst from sheer joy.

amore

it's poetry, the look on your face for me. my eyes scan the edges of your face and neck and hands and mouth, like making a quick, sloppy sketch on a cocktail napkin to crumple in my pocket and save for later. in front of you, i stand in awe. i see the breadth of you, fragile and on display. i see it all. you are silent but the sound of your voice like a ribbon it envelopes me. i feel the warmth of your fingertips, but you've yet to touch me. with quiet anticipation i long for sustained glances, but they are only fleeting. reality tugs at my skirt and pulls me away from you. with heavy eyes and a heavy heart i wake from slumber.