My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,–
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
He opens his heart to me like a flower to a butterfly
I tentatively trust. I am the butterfly.
But as his fragrant scent attracts me I wonder, does he truly desire my presence?
The flower never comes to the butterfly.
She flies away. Uncertain of the flower’s love, but remorseful missing the sweet nectar and beauty of the flower.
The flower remains alone never forgetting the winged creature that loved it so dearly.
What if the butterfly didn’t mistrust the flower, but instead simply enjoyed the fragrance of the words and passion that the flower freely gave?
Would the flower one day gently communicate to the butterfly: Don’t leave me again. Stay. I need you too.
|Let me not to the marriage of true minds||Let me not declare any reasons why two|
|Admit impediments. Love is not love||True-minded people should not be married. Love is not love|
|Which alters when it alteration finds,||Which changes when it finds a change in circumstances,|
|Or bends with the remover to remove:||Or bends from its firm stand even when a lover is unfaithful:|
|O no! it is an ever-fixed mark||Oh no! it is a lighthouse|
|That looks on tempests and is never shaken;||That sees storms but it never shaken;|
|It is the star to every wandering bark,||Love is the guiding north star to every lost ship,|
|Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.||Whose value cannot be calculated, although its altitude can be measured.|
|Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks||Love is not at the mercy of Time, though physical beauty|
|Within his bending sickle’s compass come:||Comes within the compass of his sickle.|
|Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,||Love does not alter with hours and weeks,|
|But bears it out even to the edge of doom.||But, rather, it endures until the last day of life.|
|If this be error and upon me proved,||If I am proved wrong about these thoughts on love|
|I never writ, nor no man ever loved.||Then I recant all that I have written, and no man has ever [truly] loved.|
“I think I idolize some things, and with idolatry comes fear that the idol will be taken away, and if love happens to be the only means to the idol(which may in part be love itself), I am at an impasse.” Ben
“Love is incredible. It will always be there. No one’s going to take it away from you. There is no impasse with love. Don’t be afraid.” Michelle
…how wonderful I am. Worse, how wonderful I am for him. Statistically, there aren’t many woman who could fit him the way I do. But he doesn’t even realize how lucky he is that I came back in his life. Some men are just that stupid. It’s amazing to me that he’s one of them. The thing is though, even if he doesn’t realize it, I know I’m incredible. And I want someone who is smart enough to know that and desperate to show me that he knows that and doesn’t want to lose me.
Tuesday Morning (after he wrote, waiting for me to respond)
Wednesday night (after he wrote, waiting for me to respond)
It is sooo hard to flirt with engineers. You end up having to break it down.
I. Think. You’re. Hot.
So I knew it would take a month to find a new guy. Well, amazingly I’ve found way more than one interested in me. But I set my sights on one who… well, I’m not sure if he’s interested. He might be. It’s been 6 years, but I have to play this the right way this time. For the past few weeks I’ve been pissed at Matthew Hussey for only posting about How to Get your Ex back. NOW I need that stuff and am pouring over the notes. How funny. Thank you Matthew Hussey. Oh me of little faith.