Friday, March 6, 2015

A weekly series: Friday I'm in love.....Poems and love letters from the LoveBinder. Vol. 3

"Friday I'm In LOVE" Weekly series!  I'm sorry it's so late today! Better here now, than not, no? Oh, the esoteric double meaning. Happy Friday!!!!!

The previous "Friday I'm In Love" posts are here: Vol. #1 and Vol. #2.
( If you need to catch up)...

The story is funny and spins in those types of circles love and life twist and fly within.
Where we met: A Tony Robbins seminar. (both of us begrudgingly sent by our parents)
How it started: He emailed a very restrained and dry email, and I replied with 400 hundred words in lights...shimmering.
What it was: A beautiful, well-documented fledgling  love between two writers, a cynic (him) and a muse(me) bouncing and reflecting each other's light and darkness with words and passion and discovery. We spoke of life, university, truth and our fathers. (both now, passed on.) Life is strange, and good, and exactly as it should be.
Where we are now: Both married (to other people) with kids, and budding writing careers. His, more than mine as he has a screenplay "in sales" mode and wide circulation. We spoke last night, 16 years after the first email was sent....All is right and fascinating.
Things of note: 
  • He ended every email with a movie quote, often started out by saying: "I only have a moment to text" and then wrote pages. 
  • I ended every email with an original poem. 

This Friday, I will share the giddy ending of one of our first couple email exchanges where I babbled on for three pages ( PRINTED, single spaced!) In the last two paragraphs,  I embarrassingly, admitted to being in the midst of writing a novel or not?

Per usual, I couldn't spell. That hasn't changed, I just proof-read a smidgen better.  The Poem I wrote was creatively titled: "Poem". 

Thursday, August 19th, 8:59pm, 1999:

His response was very short, and cute. (He was/is, way more articulate than some of these letters appear) His self-deprecation is both endearing and cringe-worthy from our later-life perspectives. Ha!

Thursday, August 19th, 10:57pm, 1999:

I responded that next morning, with a poem titled: "poem." Ugh...

 Friday, August 20th, 10:05am, 1999:


Like a sparkling prism, I reflect 20 different lights each one bright enough to cancel the other out but they don't.
I veil them with laughter, with tears,
The lost brain cells searching for foreignness and replaced years.
Do questions find answers when the heart pretends to bleed?
Or is it the fondness of familiarity that tells the soul to heed?
I can love, I've loved before. Chasing dreams and lighter fantasies I live to restore.
I am who I try to be, that is why I will love the man who becomes a part of what I am molding into,
Is it he? or is it me?


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