love letters from ruby

23. ruby after all

buck

you speak about my life and the fact that you have to accept that i have a life i need to live, separately from you. let me tell you, it is not really like that. i have no life other than you. i go through the motions and everything but you take up my life and thoughts. you feature largest of anything at all. i thought you knew. i thought by now you realized that every single breath i take, every single wink of my eyelids, every pucker of my lips, all my sit and stand, each time i smile or chew or cough is wrapped in you. my thoughts in my head are doubled because i think and then i think, what would you think of that or this? and i think it all again. i even rethink when i should get up or go to bed or leave the house. i have to see if it fits in with you. and you are not even in the same town as i! am i demented? yes, i am.

my weeks are divided into buck days. white ones in warm off whites and eggshells, creams, ivories, bone colours and hot white-yellow and icy white of the palest blue milk shades. the lesser buck days are less colourful, like chrome white, grey white. a horrible corpse colour. you mean different things to me; sometimes you are the door and i open you dozens of times a day just to step inside of what you are and collect your stillness and your calm and hold it to my mental breast or cheek. i have told you this before, but do you understand it? always you are the floor of my day and i walk on you in strides, small skips, i shuffle or dance, sometimes i all but crwal. a cool tile smoothness there. no thistles. no scalding desert sand just the slightest tilt downwards to aid my gait to you. always. my sudden centre of gravity. you are my heart, buck, i love you. everything around me and in me is testament to us. the sun that shines and the rain that falls. i need a secretary to arrange all my love for you.  i write a necklace of small loves for u like pretty, blue, tropical blooms. i hang them about your neck, i'm surprised they do not choke you, there are so many of them and sometimes i must be so heavy in your arms (do not forget to listen to the song) and on your mind.

and i worry. this is just me. i do not want you to know. i suspect you do too. so i'm guessing here we are, me here, you there, both frightened, both in love, both so taken up with each other that we can hardly think straight. (oh wait, that will be me i'm talking about because you always think straight)

here is something i threw together, i hope you can make some sense of it, because i definitely cannot. you turn me into a muttering madwoman who can write anything and i know you will love it, because you love me. i am smiling so much here now. thanks for loving me, buck...

i have you ever but i've never

been there, for

this poem is porridge and

the sound of the sea

is as black as night.

how do i have you

i know not at all

being mine completely

is my happiness complete

i do not mean it when i say i am jealous

but i do, ever so slightly

i know i should smile

but why do i feel cheated

but i know that i am not

if you are the mountain in which my river started

and the sea into which it runs

why on all levels

are we one

for we are

for we are

we are one

black and white

stripe

a yin/yang

zebra,

what

do you think?

i needed to write you something you'll understand because i love you and i need you to read it, is all. and love me anew. this is wednesday's insecure ruby...

i love you more

ruby