artist date

Give me solitude.

 

In fact, serve it to me on a silver platter-

I’ll gladly be the woman alone at the bar

with nothing but a pen and paper and my imagination

to keep me company.

I’ll gladly let you mistake my pleasure

for sadness

so long as the silence isn’t broken

and I can remain in this sacred space

with lady inspiration

a little while longer.

romantic support

He holds my hand as I try to write, his fingertips interlaced with mine as if to quietly reassure me he’s right here, supporting me in doing what I need to do and being who I need to be today: a writer on a slow Sunday morning with no plans.

This is what romance looks like to me these days.

fragments of a moment

cross legged on the floor writing

as he reads a hardcover I brought him

music fills the space between us and

the scent of citrus permeates the air

today we have no schedule

if we wanted to we could take a nap

in the middle of the afternoon

and wake up without an alarm clock

shaking our dreams so callously

back to reality

if we wanted to we could build a fort and have popcorn and wine for dinner

and watch Netflix until our eyes overcame with sleep

but instead we are

here.

in the sweet comfort and mutual understanding and

respect for our needs.

I’ve been so exhausted I haven’t had energy

to pay lady inspiration a visit lately

and he knows this.

so he lays with a book in hand and I sprawl

all my pens and journals on the living room carpet

and kindly ask creativity

to join me for a writing date.

And up above I can almost see love smiling down on us proudly

vaguely remembering the days

we swore off

commitment

for good.