Blush

Dear Joan,

Sometimes your laughter, so sharply sweet-icicles bathed in raw, warm honey-twirls up and palms the back of my throat, caressing those twitching cords. And I cannot speak (merely momentary).

It is like this, a catch of cold breath just behind the uvula, and subsequent sigh of relief as one bravely exhales-that defines our love. After this fickle see-saw of days gone by, you and I are WE. And I am in awe. Of you. Of us. Of the world through those piercingly peaceful eyes.

Cheers,

To love.

To laughter.

To finding something incandescent in every little thing.

To us, dollface.

I am proud of your patience, and would be nowhere without the constant expectation of your arms, around me always, sometime soon.

Happy anniversary, you’re the champion of my all.

Love,

Joan