When I hear his name, every hair on my bodybristles with desire.When I seethe moon of his face,I grow moist like a moonstone.When that manas dear to me as breathsteps close enough to stroke my neck,the thought of jealousyis shattered in my heart, which, sometimes,can be hard as diamond. - A . . . (More)

After lunch, we go to the Silver Snail, a local comic book shop. He's terribly excited. I pick up the new Daredevil Annual, but his purchase is more complicated; having lusted a week or two after a Master Chief statue to crown his work desk, he had finally reserved one. Today, he h . . . (More)

John Cusack circa 1984-1989, you are distressingly adorable and I will do anything you ask of me.

An old dream: He was very muscular -- not quite the type that as a common rule features in these sort of situations; I have a preference for more classical proportions. But he had a pleasant voice -- not too gruff, but distinctly masculine. His features were handsome, with a touch of boyishnes . . . (More)

I don't want to set the world on fireI just want to start a flame in your heartI told him -- spoke over his shoulder, really -- that this was the proper kind of song for a dance with a girl; that this was the right sort of music, like love itself; natural, rich, savoury, and made swee . . . (More)

I am very tired, so very tired, with the exclusive description of girlfriends as "beautiful." This custom seems to promote the idea that the singular quality of beauty can be an appropriate summary of a woman's merit ... even though it may be little more than a lucky boon of nature. God forbid . . . (More)

He says that he is the person most qualified to judge my merits. His reasoning stems from the basis that since he spends the most time with me and sees me at my very worst as well as very best moments, he is the one with the most balanced judgment. I disagree. (Of course.) He is the l . . . (More)

I got flowers.

Intentions:The first time it came up, he was in a panic. He had accidentally revealed a purchase of special luxury strawberry tea leaves to a friend, for whom they had been intended as a surprise birthday gift. As he frantically pulled ideas from the air, he wanted to k . . . (More)

Blue is his favourite colour, although you wouldn't really know it; through most of his days, it's whatever's clean, and that most commonly turns out to be a concoction of black and khaki. As I slide the sweater over my head, I think of all the recent acquisitions for my closet: shades like . . . (More)