backyard crowing



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a note you can't send - for Jim

Jim -

You make my heart lighter, more optimistic.

I admire you.

I want to hear about your life, your goings-on.

You're a goofball. A shaggy-haired, charming, lovely, tender heart.

I want to know you.

When I show up, you're the reason.

Your laugh makes me laugh.

You see the good in others.

And yet, you aren't afraid to speak up about a bad project idea. You're realistic.

But what do I do about this longing?

You need to know that I have a boyfriend, and I refuse to cheat him.

I love your way.

Of course, there are far more layers; you can't be all rainbows and smiles. I might be in love with the idea of you.

But I can't help thinking of you, wrong as it may be.

I feel guilty for writing this. I can't send it.

Perhaps this is just "getting it out of my system."

Heh.

Jim, I try not to look at you for too long at a time. You're adorable.

Gah! I just want to know more.

How you taste, how you smell.

Maybe I'm a strange girl, but I don't think so.

You're a fantastic late night conversationalist.

I want to sink into your mind for awhile, into your opinions, travels, experiences.

To quell your fears and leave you calm, with respite.

You're tired, but you try not to show it.

I also love your eyes. You're full of that boyish sense of wonder most men lack.

I don't often meet people who I wouldn't mind spending five hours talking to.

New Hampshire…the trees.

I can see you in plaid.

This is how it goes with unrequited love, I suppose. A note you can't send. Conversations you can't have.

Maybe this is a benefit to you. Just to know someone loves you, however surfacely.

If surfacely isn't a word, I don't think you'd care.

I want to hear all the places you've been.

My heart is that of an adventurer.

But I'm trapped. I haven't adventured.

I want to know life in a way that has been unreachable to me thus far.

Why can't a woman just have two husbands?

Is that so unfair?

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

I like you as a friend.

Nope, still not working.
But it must,
And it will.

This is such a young town.

Would I were a youngster? No…

I like being different.

This crush is a dagger twisting my ever-loving heart around and around.

Would you stop it already?

I want to cry on your shoulder.

You're so stocky, so comfortable in your own skin, so barefoot.

I've had a couple of glasses of wine, so I'm more honest, now.

Be glad in this message, and encouraged.

This is a reaching out into the ether for a like-minded soul.

With Love,

Z

12:54 am - Friday, Oct. 24, 2014
0 comments

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