the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: love (page 5 of 50)

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. Continue reading

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.” Continue reading

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

day four. what you miss.

I miss coffee in the morning. I miss watching him roll cigarettes. I miss waking up next to him, which is crazy because I usually refuse to sleep next to anyone, generally speaking.

I miss how my heart drops the second I see him after being apart. I miss kissing him goodbye at the subway.

There’s something therapeutic to me about obsession. People fuck love up all the time. To me, having a lover to keep comes down to one major factor: obsession. Continue reading

day three (timezones in my head)

It’s day three out of thirty something that my boyfriend is super far away.

I’ve been frantically consulting my international family from bases including France and England while also reaching out to Colorado and Boston.

I’m also trying to stay on the luthier’s clock, which is six hours ahead of mine – at the moment. Rome time.

Yesterday a Harlem associate came through to smoke cigars, drink Italian beer and talk about life. You just never know where you will land during the mysterious stroll of existence. Continue reading


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