the world and writing of a nyc writer

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day 15. come mi betide.

come mi betide

ho assaggiato l’oceano
quando ho baciato lui
e ha salvato la mia vita.
ho indossato di lui vestiti;
avvolto nel suo
tessuto. profumata di sigaretta
promesse. entrambi
giurò di questo stato
per sempre. che noi
apparteneva insieme
eterna. non ho mai
realizzato infinito
non ho mai capito
vi è una sola anima
che mi adatto all’interno di.
quando parla
il tamburo del mio cuore
esplode. ho espandere
per circondare la verità
che viene solo
dal suo lato.

how i betide

i tasted the ocean
when i kissed him
and it saved my life.
i wore his clothing;
wrapped in his
fabric. cigarrette scented
promises. we both
swore that this
was forever. that we
belonged together
eternally. i never
knew infinite before.
i never knew
there is one soul
that i fit inside of and
when he speaks
the drum of my heart
erupts. i expand
to surround one truth
that appears every
time he occurs.

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day 14. just barely.

Well, this weekend sucked – like last weekend. I slept as much as I could. I was invited out, I declined.

The only thing I want, is the luthier.

I actually prefer the workweek to weekends while I’m going through this because workweeks are more structured, they go by quicker. I have a defined place to go and clear tasks to execute.

But when you leave me to my devices for 48 hours, yeah… not so much.

I have been talking to my soulmate since Friday. Texting and skyping. It’s nothing to me. I need to touch him. I hate electronics on an average day. Using them for functional purposes, like telling my boyfriend I love him in two languages, contributes to their inherent functionality. Still. We’re both old school, 1978.

I want to touch him. He wants to touch me. We need each other.

It is fast and sudden and wild and perfect. In 17 days I leave, 18 until I arrive. That might as well be forever. I told the luthier that I’ll start being more excited and less tortured once we reach the two week countdown… which is Wednesday.

Hopefully I can stand by this. I really haven’t been good for anything over the past two weeks.

Today I was good at listening to this… and writing a bit. Besides that, it was a write off.

I need him. It’s killing me.

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day 13. “two”.

Two (an excerpt)

“We kiss in Sperlonga,” he promises. “…my voice is F flat, it’s terrible. I know this.”

“I only dream of you,” I tell him. “Every night. Every night, I dream of your touch.”

“Every dream, I feel your touch.”

He’s been in Italy for two weeks and we’ve been together two months and there have been two other humans in my life to turn my head.

But… nothing like this.

When his voice touches the atmosphere, my body leans forward. Every time. Once… twice

He tastes like a fresh water spring when we kiss. And I drink and drink. For hours.

“I kiss you three hours,” he tells to me over Skype.

We’ve never been apart this long before.

Two weeks after we met, I went to Tahiti. I was meant to go home to Australia afterwards, but I couldn’t. Instead, I vowed, naked, on the private patio of my Tahitian hut: “Torno a casa presto… mi manchi…

That’s when he said, “Ho una voglia pazza di fare L amore con te. Solo con te. Per sempre.”

I came back to Manhattan for two weeks, and then he went to Italy. Since then, we only talk. Counting days until I land in Rome.

Every day; I usually see him… I count the seconds. I smoke. I bite my nails.

I try to sleep. I don’t want to wake up until we are together.

When I let my hair down, I feel him fall on my shoulders. And suddenly, I’m comfortable.

 

 

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day twelve. sperlonga.

951ca755-e9f6-46ed-ba81-a3dcf0181c82So it’s 8am on Friday. Here are my top ten stats of the day, it’s been a minute since a top ten.

Top ten stats of Friday so far.

10. The amount of minutes it took me to get myself out of bed.

9. The number of dreams I had about the luthier last night.

8. The current time.

7. The number of texts I’ve swapped with the luthier so far today. Continue reading

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day eleven. i hate everything.

I’m hanging on by a thread blog tribe.

Right now I’m listening to Vinicio Capossela. I spent the morning wandering around the east river and exchanging a few “we will always be together” messages.

Saremo sempre insieme…

I moped around my apartment. I’ll go to work soon.

Work is actually helping. I’m all about distraction as a coping mechanism, huge fan.

Meanwhile, my heart has copped a historic beating. The weekend was beyond terrible. I don’t really feel like doing anything besides counting days. That’s essentially what I’ve been doing. Counting days and studying Italian. Hopefully I can speak a few licks when I leave.

In another 19 dreadful days. Continue reading

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