Alright blog tribe, the countdown begins. Today is day one of my boyfriend’s trip to Italy. I think it’s actually for 38 days, not 37 like I thought. Anything beyond two weeks is too hard for me to plan through.
Seriously.
Never the less, the two of us have already agreed that I should definitely make an appearance around day 25. We’ll probably start feeling a bit irritable at that point. I like that I can speak confidently on his behalf, mainly because we’re the exact same person in lots of ways.
The bass playing luthier is quite the muse. And he seems smitten with my designer frames widely observing his ways in anticipation of the next poem or story that will drip from my fingernails. When I say, “my glasses are from Italy,” he laughs and says, “oh does that mean their better?”
Yes. I’m convinced everything is better in Italy which is why in ten minutes I will walk five minutes (literally) the new Monday night that is going to teach me Italian. Along with being text in Italian all day, and spun around the apartment during Italian serenades.
New York City has been as precious as she could be. I’d close to say she outdid herself this time…
In any event, I’m sure I’ll be writing death and despair poetry in a few days once the emptiness makes space in my heart where I’ve kept the most beautiful man tightly wrapped the past month…