Love Weaves Itself From Hundreds Of Threads.

Every You, Every Me. Fractals. Fractures.

Dissonance, N. Nights When I Need To Sleep And You Can't. Days When I Want To Talk To You And You Won't. Hours When Every Noise You Make Interferes With My Silence. Weeks When There Is A Buzzing In The Air, And We Both Pretend We Don't Here It.

Love Is Tied To Truth. I Think Of Them As Unhappily Conjoined Twins.

"i Want You To Spend The Night," You Said. And It Was Definitely Your Phrasing That Ensured It. If You Had Said, "let's Have Sex," Or "let's Go To My Place," Or Even "i Really Want You," I'm Not Sure We Would Have Gone Quite As Far As We Did. But I Loved The Notion That The Night Was Mine To Spend, And I Immediately Decided To Spend It With You.

It's One Of The Secrets Of Strength: We're So Much More Likely To Find It In The Service Of Others Than In Service To Ourselves.