Kirsten Dewar

Peel me like a grape.
Expose my flesh, split me in two.
Take me in your mouth.
Tongue and taste
my sticky sweetness.
Find the seed,
that precious knot at the heart of me . . .

Kirsten Dewar

When you think of love, what comes to mind? A feather? Butterfly kisses? A colour? A scent? A particular person or place? A particular time, or season? A particular song?

To me love is a composite of all of these things, and more, an ever shifting, multi-faceted kaleidoscope, of light, and sound, and taste and feel. The smell of the earth after the spring rains. The blue of the sky on a cold Highveld morning. The sun reflecting off of an azure blue sea. A fiery sunset. A baby’s gurgle. A nightingale’s song. Puppy’s breath. Baking bread. A field of wild flowers. A daisy chain. The crisp, freshly minted smell trapped between the pages of a new book. The silences between the tick and the tock of the clock. The spaces between words. Jasmine in bloom. The green of water hyacinth. Snow. The way a genuine heartfelt smile reflects not only on the mouth, but in the eyes. Ice. Chilli. Feeling full, like there’s a ribbon, a river, a rainbow of colour and light waiting to escape from inside you. Happiness so vast, it’s more than your heart can hold. The sound of children laughing. The way your heart skips a beat when he says your name. How soft it sounds in his mouth. The heat and glow from a banked fire. Humility. Respect. Camaraderie. Rose petals scattered by a summer breeze. Crosses carried, burdens shared. A kitten’s purr. The whisper and sigh of the wind. The rasp of his stubble on your cheek. Cocoa beans. Marshmallows roasted on an open log fire. Kisses stolen. Kisses freely given. Ballet shoes. How, when he laces his fingers through yours, you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin. The lace trimming on a wedding dress. Old sepia photographs, taken long ago. Loyalty. The clamour of passion, the roar of blood through the veins, hunger, release. Friendship. The tremulous sparrow beat of his heart against your chest. Seeing a man’s eyes fill with tears on his granddaughter’s wedding day, because she reminds him of the bride he married fifty years before. A scattering of stars, nestled in velvet. Devotion, unceasing, unrelenting. Unconditional acceptance. Old love letters, carefully preserved, tied with a scarlet satin bow. Secret places. The knowledge that here, you belong. The smell of his scent on your skin. The oh so familiar contours left by his head, on your pillow. Comfortable silences. The whispered refrains of love.

There’s so much more to love than just a red heart.

(c) 2008 all rights reserved.

Orson Scott-Card

"To reach out to you when I'm in need, and to try to be here for you when you need me back. And to feel such tenderness when I look at you that I want to stand between you and all the world: and yet also to lift you up and carry you above the strong currents of life; and at the same time, I would be glad to stand always like this, at a distance, watching you, the beauty of you."

Orson Scott-Card

Stephenie Meyer

"You are the most dangerous creature I've ever met."

Stephenie Meyer

Charles Frazier

"She fit her head under his chin, and he could feel her weight settle into him. He held her tight and words spilled out of him without prior composition. And this time he made no effort to clamp them off. He told her about the first time he had looked on the back of her neck as she sat in the church pew. Of the feeling that had never let go of him since. He talked to her of the great waste of years between then and now. A long time gone. And it was pointless, he said, to think how those years could have been put to better use, for he could hardly have put them to worse. There was no recovering them now. You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you are. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you. Nevertheless, over all those wasted years, he had held in his mind the wish to kiss her on the back of her neck, and now he had done it. There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred."

Charles Frazier

Alice Munro

Few people, very few, have a treasure, and if you do you must hang onto it. You must not let yourself be waylaid, and have it taken from you."

Alice Munro

Stephenie Meyer

"He is like a drug to you, Bella." His voice was still gentle, not at all critical. "I see that you can't live without him now. It's too late. But I would have been healthier for you. Not a drug; I would have been the air, the sun."
The corner of my mouth turned up in a wistful half smile. "I used to think of you that way, you know. Like the sun. My personal sun. You balanced out the clouds nicely for me."
He Sighed. "The clouds I can handle. But I can't fight with an eclipse."

Stephenie Meyer

Bret Easton Ellis

"I only had sex with him because I'm in love with you. "

Bret Easton Ellis