"The Course of True Love never did run smooth." - William Shakespeare

Written to be read from the beginning for full effect (Thurs, Nov 4, 2010) :)

Thursday, December 30, 2010

The day she Finally let Go.


I do not Ever want Another man to look at me as though I belong to him again. I belong to Only Donovan, and Ever Will. I suppose that such a saying makes me sound stubborn; well, if stubborn be the word of choice to others from their outside view of it, then so be it. I would be so stubborn Everyday of my life if it could Somehow bring him back to me.

I have found for myself, however, that it cannot. If stubborn is the word of choice for how I am behaving then others do not Understand. Stubborn implies a willful choice of conscious mind which dictates such behavior. I would say, if anything, I am more like Stuck.

I do not wish to be; in fact, I wish More than Ever to be Freed of him Forever, to be released from this hold he has upon my heart and to be able to Live in Ignorance of the Joys he's brought to me as well.

I cannot handle all this pain, Diary. I simply Cannot do it without him here with me to Comfort me and Understand me. He is the Only One who Understands my Joys the same way I do, and he is the Only one who can Shelter me so Perfectly from the Pains that correspond with them as well.

And, Diary, if he cannot be here to Protect me from the Pain of Losing him, then I wish I never Even had had him here to hold me through Anything Else at All.

Monday, December 27, 2010

My lips feel so tender just in thinking about his kiss, Diary. My eyes close and my hands become Heavy with some kind of Spiritual Density which Somehow doesn't know the difference between my thoughts and the Reality of the event actually taking place; they begin thinking for themselves and they Want to be wrapped around his body, my chest Pressing Ever so Gently yet Firmly up Against his, forming into and tracing themselves Along his sides and back, and then up around and into his shoulders, and then Even More Lovingly if that is Possible, along the sides of his neck, and sealing It All up around the square frame of his cheeks and chin, All the while Surrendering Completely to the Passion that exists within the Power of his Lips and Taste and Touch.

I mentioned Prior the Weight that is Present when Love is there, and All I can really tell you, Diary, is that Each time the Memory of him Strikes me the way it just has, my hands are heavy and my lips are tender, and When they Realize he is no longer here, they feel So missing and So much more like they could Never Kiss, nor Touch, nor Love another quite So much.

It feels as though they have detached from me Completely and Remain detached from me and Floating out in the air in front of me, Always just barely close enough that it Appears that They are Still within my Reach to Reclaim when I want them, and Yet Time and Time Again I find that the Reality of it is that they Are and Ever Will Remain Always Just Far Enough Off and Just Aeirified Enough that They Could Never Be Reclaimed As My Own Again without that Weight and that Consistency that Only Don can Give Them.

Thursday, December 23, 2010



I wish I could explain to you the Power that there is when His lips touch mine. My heart Stops just thinking about it. Everything else that is around me vaporizes down into nothingness while the Material of his Kindness and Respect and Compassion For me Overtakes it and Completely Consumes the Now Empty space around us with a Solidarity that is Unparalleled by Anything Else that I have Ever felt.


...My whole body buckles beneath me with what's vaporized, but Somehow my Spirit Yet Remains Standing There Upheld by That Purer, Surer Matter.


The Only Way I can even Begin conceptualizing it is by saying that it is as though Someone has come up behind me and as Gently as one would flick a Speck of Dandelion Fluff into the air around them, has done so at the backside of my knees and in doing so has in a similar way to blowing the fluff off of a dandelion stem, Erased Them out of My Flesh Completely and released the Spiritual Matter of Them into All the Air that is Around me. As Soon as they are flicked away from behind and no longer Left to hold me together, my Entire Body Falls Along with them onto the Floor into a haphazard heap of robustious listlessness, while the Spiritual Essence of my knees somehow becomes more Solid and Gentle and able to hold me Together than Ever before.


I Cannot Even Tell You, Diary, the Meaning that is in it. It is So much More than just a kiss, and I will Never Understand Again how Anyone Could Ever Kiss someone and find Any Joy in it at all without having such Density of Matter and Sincerity as This within it. I Cannot bring myself to doing it, Diary, and I Cannot understand how others Can Speak so casually of Such experiences either. It is a Moment which belongs to me and Donovan Only; Nobody else could Ever Understand it Quite the Same way We do, and I refuse to have It taken from us, Diary, for Anything Less Than What It Is.

Monday, December 20, 2010

A collection of notes, never delivered; written perhaps for her own Piece of mind more than Anything:




Wish I could sleep. Wish you were here.









You are my rock.




...Don't know what else to say.




Missing you More Now than ever,









Missing You. In Every sense of the word.


Ever Yours,





Thursday, December 16, 2010



I do not even know what to write to you today. I miss him so much more than I could ever explain to Even you. And sometimes it feels like the Only way I'd ever stand a chance at having it be understood completely, is by having him standing right here by my side, his hands gently shaped into my shoulders as though the weight of them is more a part of me than I am, and his empathetic heart and eyes Reaching out and delving deeply into mine.

I guess that is why I so naturally begin writing things out to him instead of you. I feel sometimes like even a blank page with his name at the top of it captures better Everything I feel than the paragraphs that it would take to explain it All to you. And with other people? It is nearly always futile from the start; no matter how much I mean to say exactly what I'm feeling I somehow Still yet remain unable to hit the core of it and end up talking all around it instead. -Ah, and now in typing that I want him here with me again. I am not one who has ever needed much of anything, Diary, and yet Somehow I find the Deepest truth and the most Peaceful feeling Only in allowing myself to acknowledge that it is him that I need More than Anything.

...God grant me the strength I need to endure;


Monday, December 13, 2010

I wish you could see the way he looks at me sometimes, Diary! ...Or maybe I mean more like I wish you could Feel the way he looks at me sometimes! It is so soft and tender and it makes me feel like Anything in this world could come at me and Still I'd be the most Valued and Respected person in it. It is so elevating and yet at the same time so leveling; so uplifting and motivating and exalting, and at the same time so down-to-earth and Real and Truthful and Sincere. He anchors me in some way which is impossible for me to explain. I feel so much like I am floating away without him.


And his gaze, Diary.. Oh, his gaze! Everytime he looks at me I feel it cutting through me and penetrating into the very fabric of my soul. It is so admiring and still so expectant. And it is so humbling and comforting to me.


And Diary, I have said it before and I will say it again, I could never do Anything to be worthy of such an Elevating gaze; -But then, he would tell you the same thing about the way I look at him.

Thursday, December 9, 2010



What does one mean when they say they have found "The One" anyway? Or that they are seeking out "The One" or so on? I am so sick of all of this talk of Miracle Men that surrounds me! Is there no middle ground? Has the world around me idealized to the point that even if they found "that one" whom they are seeking for they wouldn't even Know it if they had?


What is it that Lasts, anyway, Diary? For myself I have found the Only Thing that Lasts Through Life is Love. But what exactly is Love, anyway? I have thought that I have been fortunate enough to Feel of It a few times in my life, but Everytime I have Thought it as the Real Thing I have been Left Only to Myself when I have tried to build upon It and be Sure of it.


Do you know what it is like, Diary? To have the very Essence of Everything that matters in this Life torn away from you as though it Never even belonged to you in the first place? It is hell itself if I have ever known it; It is incongruence with Eternity.


-And who else would understand it if I were to explain it to them but you, Dear Diary? My heart is bare before you, and it is bare before Donovan just the same. But aside from you and him, there is a loneliness which is so personal and so impossible to explain to others that I am forced either to find peace within the incongruency or else to feel no matter where I am as though Everything that is of Matter to me is not understood with the same significance by Anybody else who is around me.


I dare not speak of it at all, but rather suffer myself to keep in Silence such matters of deep importance, when in Reality I desire nothing more than just to feel a Comfort enough with another human being to be able to pour it all out into them and have them share with me in even the smallest portion Some understanding of this kind of Deep and Lasting, Steady and Assured Joy it is I feel even just in thinking of him.


Sometimes, I think that I just want my memory of him to vanish completely and leave me the ability to Go On as though I've never felt Something as Deep and Real as what I felt when I was with him. But then I think again, and when I do I realize that I do not really want for that to happen at all. I want to carry him with me Always, Diary. (And not just because he is somebody, but because he is Donovan -I cannot put it any other way but that). -I have never said anything Truer in my life than I have when I have told him that I love him.


But Truth in this Day and Age, Diary, seems only to be valued to others if it is a commodity of convenience. The moment it requires Courage to stand by it and preserve it, the Truth is aimlessly abandoned and a Ghastly doppelganger is set up in its place.

Monday, December 6, 2010

The Weight of Love

I have never seen eyes purer than his, Diary! I just want to Rest in them forever. There is no language to describe it. Not even a photograph of them in their most strengthening (-and somehow simultaneously weakening) moments could sufficiently capture the Comfort that is there in them when he is actually there with me looking back at me and into mine, allowing me to venture into his, even if only for a Time.


There is so much power in our eyes, Diary! Windows to the soul, they say; but I say more they are more like Gateways. My flesh is stripped away when I am looking at him, and Only Love remains. -And the strangest thing of all, Diary? It is Then that Every touch becomes an Ecstasy. My flesh is stripped away and enveloped with Spirit, and somehow at the very same time it is Exalted and More Present, Real, and Capable of Feeling than it Ever was Before.


There is a thickness and a substance of matter that exists when Love is there, Diary, and Once you have felt the weight of it and carried it with you for a time, Everything else that you experience feels <span>so</span> inordinately light without it.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The day she Knew

(She'd never be the same without him)


Before him there was the light of hope that one such as him existed.

After him there is the comfort of Confidence and Assurance of the realization of that specific hope's reality.

But with him? With him, Diary, the before and after mesh into one eternal Now- a Now in which even the most turbulent of times is triumphed over with the steady assurance of solidarity that Only he can bring me.


-Without him completely? Before the before? Or to think (heaven forbid it!) of an After in which he would cease to exist and would not carry through with me? Both are inconceivable to me. He has Always been a part of me, Diary; to live without the Now of which I speak that exists when I am with him is not at all preferable, but is somehow still bearable so long as the Before and After yet remain with me.


We both have a journey, Diary, which God in His Perfect Love must allow us to forge through seperated from one another for a temporary time. This is the only way for us to learn certain Truths which we could never have been able to learn if we were Ever yet together.


It is a Mercy, Diary, that God allowed us to forget. To have him remain with me Only as a hope inside my heart is preferable to attempting to bear a full knowledge of Once being with him and now having to be without him. I can hardly bare it these past few months, let alone my whole life prior.


-What is it that we learn through brokenness, Diary? -I realize that I need him- my soul is not a Soul without him. It is as though we were fashioned out of the same Spirit- split into two and only now kept apart by this denser, darker matter which we call Earth. If All the earth were purified and Lifted Up I trust, Diary, we could no longer remain apart- the Elements would demand otherwise- we would at the very moment of That Purification be immediately and instantaneously drawn back Into One another.


This earth is the Only thing which could Keep us apart, Diary. Ah, my heart can hardly bear it. I yearn for us to Yet be One again. And I trust that that same God which Fashioned him and I from that same piece of Spirit can hear the cries of my collapsing heart, and can feel as I have felt, Diary, the symbiotic yearning of Don's Spirit to be at One with mine. Earth and hell may combine against us, Diary, but I no longer hope, but rather Know that One Day, Love will conquer All.