Matt. 8:23-27

Oh how desperately I long to write something beautiful about the way you move me but as always my deepest feelings remain unexpressed because the language of my heart is not like any spoken language, it is unlike any written word, and even when my heart is screaming out with passion my lips are tight pressed together and my pen lies darkly on my desk, calling always with the promise to frustrate me so how can I speak these heart movements towards you that tug on me like a preschooler tugs my hair and then—then the inevitable yank—and the pain is almost unbearable—the pain of seeing your face on a computer screen, the pain of mimicking your touch every chance I get, the pain of the silence at night when I should be listening to your heart beat. How can I speak the unspeakable turn of my soul that wrenches me away from every other soul and fixes my attention on you? How can I tell of the fear that plagues me alway—the fear that I'm doing it wrong—that I will do it wrong.

And it crushes me to be away from the man I'm going to spend my life with. Separation verily pulls my soul to pieces, and as I watch the petals fall one by one off the tulips you sent me my heart tells them, "I know how you feel."

How can I utter the way that the lines of your face leave me breathless like the morning light—the curve of your jaw, the way you smile at me in your sweet, boyish half-smile—the one that takes my heart by storm like a castle— the intense and warm tenderness of your gaze..the unspeakable perfection of the shape of your eyebrows. I have trained myself to look for beauty in everyone, but I've truly never seen anybody more beautiful than you.

2.28.14