Archive for May, 2018

How do I love thee? Let me tell you in many ways. Now, darling, I don’t know another foreign language. I don’t speak Latin, I don’t know Spanish. And I most definitely have no idea how to speak Korean. But I do have my own set of languages to tell you–I love you.

I don’t speak Italian, and I won’t be as romantic and expressive as they are. But let me tell you I love you in the way that I know how.

I would give you… A tulip. Not just because you are unique and not cliche as the rose, but because I love you with a love that I can declare out loud. And call me geeky but tulip for me is the five points of Calvinism and therefore I love you with a love founded on the truth.
I would give you– a forget-me-not. Because babe I’m telling you I will never ever forget your smile, your touch, and your every word. And I just hope your heart will always remember me too, because mine will always love you with a love that’s meant to last.

I don’t know how to use Italian, but I know how to say I love you in my own language of flowers.

Now babe, I don’t know how to make poetry in Greek, and I’ll never be as half poetic as the Muses are. But let me show you I love you in shades and hues that I can draw.

For me you are my army green. Not just because army green is my favorite color and you’re easily my favorite person, but also because you keep me calm and at peace. And dear you are my golden color, the shade above all my bronzes and silvers, the color that exceeds all the others in my Life painting. And it doesn’t matter if you think the only shade you can offer at my pallette is black. Because as dark and foreboding as it may be, I love it because it’s such a strong color, strong flavor, strong personality. And I’m telling you, our love is not just red, but a deep shade of crimson–a passionate fire that will keep alight until our scarlet hearts stop pumping our equally crimson blood.

Babe, I don’t know how to write in Greek, but I know how to say I love you in my own language of colors.

And really, Love, I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to converse in French and I’ll never be as assertive as those who confess their love in the bridges of Paris. But let me show you I love you in the manner that I can.

I met you at a public performance, and that night we were way more than 12 feet apart. Strangers back then, but I realize you were simply a friend I haven’t yet met.

As I continued to look at you from a distance I find the space between us too vast. Too wide. But somehow your wide black eyes are deep pools of vacuum pulling me closer, and closer.

Closer, until we’re just four feet apart. Things between us have become more personal now. You talk about your past, I talk about my flaws, and the words and thoughts that we give and take are now more than just an exchange of witty wordplays. They’re now getting closer, and closer, and closer.

And still your deep pools kept drawing me nearer to you. Closer. Closer. Now we’re merely an inch apart. Close enough to whisper, I love you. Babe, I don’t know how to do anything French, word or any gesture, but I do know how to say I love you in my own language of space.

See, my languages aren’t that romantic. Often, you can’t even hear them. But when I tell you again that I love you, let me show you in the best ways that I know. So how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

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