By michaela renee on 11/24/2009 10:04 AM

I love you, and more than that I love the way you love me. The way you brush my hair back to see my eyes better. The way your eyes well up with tears when you reach the back of my mind.

I love the way you shed your coat in forty degree weather and wrap it around my shoulders because you saw me slightly shiver. I love the way you yell in a crowded airport “let me be the man” when I try to take control, and the way the embarrassment causes me to let go, let you have the reigns.

I love how you roll over half way through the night, patting around until you find it, my hip bone. And the way you run your fingers softly over the curve and then pull me close and squeeze tight, and even more the way you don’t let go until the sun starts rising over the dew speckled pines outside our window.

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By michaela renee on 11/9/2009 5:03 PM

This is conflict.

Conflict is right or left, North or South, East or West, up and down. Some people say that’s Yin and Yang.

Conflict is being caught in the middle of two people, or two ways of life.

Conflict is being a mother and a wife, a sister and a friend.

Conflict is what you actually think, and what you actually say.

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By michaela renee on 11/3/2009 8:40 PM

---------author’s note---------
This if for you, if you read this, you know that only you can finish it.

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