Is what I've been doing, thinking of you for two weeks on Parisian streets. Whispering to myself (late at night, when nobody else is in sight) that I adore you, darling, and you're beautiful and I hope you're well.
You're worried about H again. Your back aches. I came up to see you (you made me smile) and drank tea, and what I really wanted to do was just put my arms around you and stroke you. I want to wake up in the morning with the softness of your skin next to me, and caress you. You deserve to be woken up by caresses.
You said you would try to be 'discret' with me and V, in the sense of unobtrusive. Oh darling, please don't. You're still the main person in my life at the moment, so there's no need to be. You're not easily replaced. There's no need. I couldn't say that without it all coming out, so I just said, 'non, pas du tout' and smiled at you.
I thought maybe I'd have knocked this feeling on the head. But I can't, dear. When I saw you again, I just wanted to hold you and touch you and make you feel so good. Maybe tomorrow. I want to lean over and kiss you, I want to tell you how much it means to faire des bisous each night, how much it means to just be chatting to you, calmly and quietly. How much you mean to me. And you mean an awful lot. J'ai soif de toi. That's what I won't tell you tomorrow.
You bring me back cigarettes and a lighter and tell me the things that made you think of me. You thought of me. I think of you, often. I need a way of telling you you're important to me whilst not scaring you with this passion. I am looking out for other people, but the problem is qu'elles n'arrivent pas a ta cheville.
Tomorrow we'll eat together and relax, and I'll smoke (you probably will too) and you'll sort your things and I will offer to massage your back at some point. And I'll recite Les Aveugles for you. Let me let me let me faire ce qui te rends heureuse.
Tuesday 14 February 2012
Monday 6 February 2012
I am grateful for you.
I am missing you. I joked today, to the Supermodel, that I was wearing your clothes because I missed you. I put on your coat because it's nearest to hand and it's got pockets for cigarettes and matches, because it buffets me against the wind, I put on your shoes because they're easiest to slip on- but a part of me does like wrapping myself up in the fabric that held your body, soft and safe. I laughed after I'd told her, but there's an element of truth. Tu me manques.
And I'm grateful because you're there, my love. You're present. You're there to laugh with, to tease gently, to be kind to, to share my worries with, and you, in turn, share yours with me. It's very gentle, what we've got. Very sweet. As soft and gentle as the kiss you give me every morning and night, as soft as your silken face, as soft as the scent of soap that emanates from you. You know what I'm thinking, or more to the point, how I think and don't correct my speech because you understand; you understand my pride and you understand me, without having perfect pronunciation. You're kind. And so I am grateful, for this relationship, which, although not the grande coup de foudre, is a bond. A link for me and for you. Between us.
It's something that E, my sister hasn't got. She hasn't got someone to shout, 'bonjour' to when she comes home, she hasn't got someone to remark on the cold to, she hasn't got someone to discuss the finer points of various sorts of bread with. They're the things that are not important, but open the doors to other things. H's epilepsy. Your husband. How I feel about my family. They're the things that I like talking about, the unimportant things that are nonetheless interesting. They're the things I need in the day. Someone to pass the time of day with. It's lucky that you're also beautiful and interesting and funny, and so loving. It's so unlucky that E hasn't. I wish I could give her a week with your safety, with you being with her as you are with me. Life is about having someone to be with. I'm so glad that I'm with you. It's not romantic, it's not even close. But you do love me, in your way, and I don't think that it will change. Friends, or family. Stable and kind, and soft.
And I'm grateful because you're there, my love. You're present. You're there to laugh with, to tease gently, to be kind to, to share my worries with, and you, in turn, share yours with me. It's very gentle, what we've got. Very sweet. As soft and gentle as the kiss you give me every morning and night, as soft as your silken face, as soft as the scent of soap that emanates from you. You know what I'm thinking, or more to the point, how I think and don't correct my speech because you understand; you understand my pride and you understand me, without having perfect pronunciation. You're kind. And so I am grateful, for this relationship, which, although not the grande coup de foudre, is a bond. A link for me and for you. Between us.
It's something that E, my sister hasn't got. She hasn't got someone to shout, 'bonjour' to when she comes home, she hasn't got someone to remark on the cold to, she hasn't got someone to discuss the finer points of various sorts of bread with. They're the things that are not important, but open the doors to other things. H's epilepsy. Your husband. How I feel about my family. They're the things that I like talking about, the unimportant things that are nonetheless interesting. They're the things I need in the day. Someone to pass the time of day with. It's lucky that you're also beautiful and interesting and funny, and so loving. It's so unlucky that E hasn't. I wish I could give her a week with your safety, with you being with her as you are with me. Life is about having someone to be with. I'm so glad that I'm with you. It's not romantic, it's not even close. But you do love me, in your way, and I don't think that it will change. Friends, or family. Stable and kind, and soft.
Saturday 4 February 2012
Today: things I'd tell you.
Que ton echarpe m'a garde bien chauffee aujourd'hui, malgre le froid.
Que la lune etait belle au-dessus de nos toits.
Que mon joue est fraiche.
Que j'ai mange tant de choses.
Que la supermodele m'a fait du cous cous. Elle est gentille, mais elle ne serait jamais une personne comme toi; c'est a dire, quelqu'une avec qui j'ai cette relation si tendre et si chaleureuse; cette reconaissance d'esprit. Je n'ai pas pense qu'on aurait trouver ca, en commencant. Tu etais chic et reserve et altiere. Mais maintenant, c'est moi qui chauffe pour toi; c'est toi qui me fait des bises, qui me donne des choses, qui montes toutes les trucs que je te donne a toute le monde.
Et si ta journee ne s'est passe bien, je veux te caresser la visage et te donner un bisou, de te prendre par la main et de te carrer confortable dans mes bras. De te dire que tu es belle, tu es fiere et tu es honnete et gentille et intelligente, et surtout que tu m'es si importante. O, ma cherie. Je veux etre la pour toi, quand tu as besoin.
Que la lune etait belle au-dessus de nos toits.
Que mon joue est fraiche.
Que j'ai mange tant de choses.
Que la supermodele m'a fait du cous cous. Elle est gentille, mais elle ne serait jamais une personne comme toi; c'est a dire, quelqu'une avec qui j'ai cette relation si tendre et si chaleureuse; cette reconaissance d'esprit. Je n'ai pas pense qu'on aurait trouver ca, en commencant. Tu etais chic et reserve et altiere. Mais maintenant, c'est moi qui chauffe pour toi; c'est toi qui me fait des bises, qui me donne des choses, qui montes toutes les trucs que je te donne a toute le monde.
Et si ta journee ne s'est passe bien, je veux te caresser la visage et te donner un bisou, de te prendre par la main et de te carrer confortable dans mes bras. De te dire que tu es belle, tu es fiere et tu es honnete et gentille et intelligente, et surtout que tu m'es si importante. O, ma cherie. Je veux etre la pour toi, quand tu as besoin.
Thursday 2 February 2012
You've gone away for a few days
With H, who's so needy at the moment. I look back and see that there was once a phase when we didn't kiss every day. It's not a real kiss. Just two, on the cheek, the bisous. But once we didn't. Then, after two months, we started- and now it's odd to have a day when you don't kiss me goodbye in the morning or kiss me goodnight.
What I want is to massage your back again. I don't know whether or not you found it odd, or whether you (like me) think it's something we don't do when there are others around, or whether you think it's putting on me. It's not, in any case.
You've made a rod for your own back
Which has already taken so many lashes
You feel like you have to cook
Because it's what you do
And you try so hard to be serene
But it's all paddling frantically underneath
And my love
I want to take you in my arms
And make you happy
And touch my lips to yours
If it's what you want.
You deserve someone you want
And I'd love it to be me
But I can't see
How I could ever find out
Without ruining what we've got
Four daily kisses
Twilight poetry recited under the stars of Parisian rooftops
And your seldom touch
And eternal companionship.
It's a risk.
What I want is to massage your back again. I don't know whether or not you found it odd, or whether you (like me) think it's something we don't do when there are others around, or whether you think it's putting on me. It's not, in any case.
You've made a rod for your own back
Which has already taken so many lashes
You feel like you have to cook
Because it's what you do
And you try so hard to be serene
But it's all paddling frantically underneath
And my love
I want to take you in my arms
And make you happy
And touch my lips to yours
If it's what you want.
You deserve someone you want
And I'd love it to be me
But I can't see
How I could ever find out
Without ruining what we've got
Four daily kisses
Twilight poetry recited under the stars of Parisian rooftops
And your seldom touch
And eternal companionship.
It's a risk.
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