http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX3xVQ7LiwE

More than the greatest love the world has known,
This is the love I give to you alone,
More than the simple words I try to say,
I only live to love you more each day.
More than you’ll ever know, my arms long to hold you so,
My life will be in your keeping, waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping,
Longer than always is a long long time, but far beyond forever you’re gonna be mine.
I know I’ve never lived before and my heart is very sure,
No one else could love you more.

More than you’ll ever know , my arms they long to hold you so,
My life will be in your keeping, waking, sleeping, laughing, weeping,
Longer than always is a long long time, but far beyond forever you’ll be mine,
I know that I’ve never lived before and my heart is very sure,
No one else could love you more, no one else could love you more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNkdcLrog8Q&feature=related

We were more than lovers,
We were more than sweethearts,
its so hard to understand…
don’t know how it happened,
don’t know how its started,
Why should we be strangers after all we’ve planned?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrPqNA0UVuk&feature=related

What are you doing the rest of your life?
North and South and East and West of your life
I have only one request of your life
That you spend it all with me
All the seasons and the times of your days
All the nickels and the dimes of your days
Let the reasons and the rhymes of your days
All begin and end with me

I want to see your face in every kind of light
In fields of dawn and forests of the night
And when you stand before the candles on a cake
Oh, let me be the one to hear the silent wish you make

Those tomorrows waiting deep in your eyes
In the world of love you keep in your eyes
I’ll awaken what’s asleep in your eyes
It may take a kiss or two

Through all of my life
Summer, Winter, Spring, and Fall of my life
All I ever will recall of my life
Is all of my life with you

August 15, 1846

I will cover you with love when next I see you, with caresses, with ecstasy. I want to gorge  you with all the joys of the flesh, so that you faint and die. I want you to be amazed by me, and to confess to yourself that you had never even dreamed of such transports… When you are old, I want you to recall those few hours, I want your dry bones to quiver with joy when you think of them.

Gustave Flaubert

Once upon a time there was a boy.  He lived in a village that no
longer exists, in a house that no longer exists, on the edge of a
field that no longer exists, where everything was discovered and
everything was possible. A stick could be a sword.  A pebble could be
a diamond.  A tree a castle.

Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a house across the field
from a girl who no longer exists.  They made up a thousand games.  She
was a Queen and he was King.  In the autumn light, her hair shone like
a crown.  They collected the world in small handfuls.  When the sky
grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair.

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter
was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.  When they
were ten he asked her to marry him.  When they were eleven he kissed
her for the first time.  When they were thirteen they got into a fight
and for three weeks they didn’t talk.  When they were fifteen she
showed him the scar on her left breast.  Their love was a secret they
told no one.  He promised her he would never love another girl as long
as he lived.  What if I die?  she asked.  Even then, he said.

For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and
together they learned the words.  What’s this?  he’d ask, tracing his
index finger around her ankle, and she’d look it up.  And this?   he’d
ask, kissing her elbow.  Elbow!  What kind of a word is that?  and
then he’d lick it, making her giggle.  What about this?  he asked,
touching the soft skin behind her ear.  I don’t know , she said,
turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her
back.  When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on
a bed of straw in a shed.  Later- when things happened that they could
never have imagined- she wrote him a letter that said:  When will you
learn that there isn’t a word for everything?

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl whose father was
shrewd enough to scrounge together all the zloty he had to send his
youngest daughter to America.  At first she refused to go, but the boy
also knew enough to insist, swearing on his life that he’d earn some
money and find a way to follow her.  She she left.  He got a job in
the nearest city, working as a janitor in a hospital.  At night he
stayed up writing his book.  He sent her a letter into which he’d
copied eleven chapters in tiny hand-writing. He wasn’t even sure the
mail would get through.  He saved all the money he could.  One day he
was laid off.  No one said why.  He returned home.  In the summer of
1941, the Einsatzgrouppen drove deeper east, killing thousands of
Jews.  On a bright, hot day in July, they entered Slonim.  At that
hour, the boy happened to be lying on his back in the woods thinking
about the girl.  You could say it was his love for her that saved him.
in the years that followed, the boy became a man who became
invisible.  In this way, he escaped death.

Once upon a time a man who had become invisible arrived in America.
He’d spent three and a half years hiding, mostly in trees, but also in
cracks, cellars, holes.  Then it was over.  The Russian tanks rolled
in.  For six months he lived in a Displaced Persons camp.  He got word
to his cousin who was a locksmith in America.  In his head, he
practiced over and over the only words he knew in English. Knee.
Elbow.  Ear: Finally his papers came through.  He took a train to a
boat and after a week he arrived in New York Harbor.  A could day in
November. Folded in his hand was the address of the girl.

That night he lay awake on the floor of his cousin’s room.  The
radiator clanged and hissed, but he was grateful for the warmth.  in
the morning his cousin explained to him three times how to take the
subway to Brooklyn.  He bought a bunch of roses but they wilted
because though his cousin had explained the way three times he still
got lost.  At last he found the place.  Only as his finger pressed the
doorbell did the though cross his mind that perhaps he should have
called.  She opened the door.  She wore a blue scarf over her hair.

Once upon a time, the woman who had been a girl got on a boat to
America and threw up the whole way, not because she was seasick but
because she was pregnant.  When she found out, she wrote to the boy.
Every day she waited for a letter from him, but none came.  She got
bigger and bigger.  She tried to hide it so she wouldn’t lose her job
at the dress factory where she worked.  A few weeks before the baby
was born, she got news from someone who heard that they were killing
Jews in Poland.  Where?  She asked, but no one knew where.  She
stopped going to work.  She couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed.
After a week, the son of her boss came to see her.  He brought her
food to eat, and put a bouquet of flowers in a vase by her bed.  When
he found out she was pregnant, he called a midwife.  A baby boy was
born.  One day the girl sat up in bed and saw the son of her boss
rocking her child in the sunlight.  A few months later, she agreed to
marry him.  Two years later, she had another child.

The man who ha become invisible stood in her living room listening to
all of this.  He was twenty-five years old.  He had changed so much
since he last saw her and now part of him wanted to laugh a hard, cold
laugh.  She gave him a small photograph of the boy, who was now five.
Her hand was shaking.  She said:  you stopped writing.  I thought you
were dead.  He looked at the photograph of the boy who would grow up
to look like him, who although the man didn’t know it then, would go
to college, fall in love, fall out of love, become a famous writer.
What’s his name? he asked.  She said:  I called in Isaac.

They stood for a long time in silence as he stared at the picture.  At
last he managed three words:  Come with me.  The sound of the children
shouting came from the street below.  She squeezed her eyes shut.
Come with me, he said, holding out his hand.  Tears rolled down her
face.  Three times he asked her.  She shook her head.  I can’t, she
said.  She looked down at the floor.  Please, she said.  And he did
the hardest hing he’d ever done in his life:  he picked up his hat and
walked away.

And if the man who once upon a time had been a boy who promised he’s
never fall in love with another girl as long as he lived kept his
promise, it wasn’t because he was stubborn or even loyal.  He couldn’t
help it.  And having hidden for three and a half years, hiding his
love for a son who didn’t know he existed didn’t seem unthinkable.
Not if it was what the only woman he would ever love needed him to do.
After all, what does it mean for a man to hide one more thing when he
has vanished completely?

From what we know and can comprehend, we travel through life only once and can only make one set of choices.   To be absolutely sure in our decisions is impossible because by living only one life, we can not compare it to our previous life, or perfect it in a life to come.  Nothing returns, moments disappear, the weight and significance of our choices fade.  And yet, your appearance, your presence and your promise makes me quite sure that I don’t need a dress rehearsal.

I miss you.  I want to be with you and hold you and be held.  I want to cup your cheeks in my hands and look into your beautiful brown eyes across the table in a restaurant.   I long to feel the soft tenderness of your kisses by day and the sensual passion of your kisses by night.  I want to show you my tender affection in everyday things, holding hands, walking, listening to music, dancing, making decisions, eating, watching movies, driving…

We deserve it all.  Romance, passion, attention, comfort, safety, security.  Happy hearts overflown with love.  We have been brought together at this time in our lives for something very special.  We will explore what life has in store for us for the rest of our days together.

Your words…  “I cant wait to see you again, I will cover you in kiss and caricias y cariños, I will touch every part of your body and watch and feel more than that, I will talk to you how I like, wispering close to your ear, YOU MADE LIKE THIS, after you I´m not the same.”

You know exactly what I want and what I need.  What turns me on.   What excites me. What makes me shake.  What makes me lose my breath.  What intensify my desires. What you can do to me, with your words alone… a whispered term of endearment, a flirtatious phrase, a secret suggestion, a cry of passion–your words are the most intimate gifts that you have given me.

And your mouth…. oh so provocative.  It is my most complete source of my fulfillment. It’s sensual power to arouse my desire that makes me want to love you with tenderness, romance and fire.   Your voice, soft and low in my ear, is an aphrodisiacs that dissolves me into ecstasy.  The things you say…  stimulate my mind and sends shivers of sensual delight through my entire body. You have the power to relax me, invigorate me, ignite my imagination, make me feel things so deep. Our words make tangible the unspoken ache in our bodies and yearning in our hearts.

And then the moments when the quality of our desires are more delicate or playful or tender, when we feel the deep appreciation for the pleasure we bring to each other’s life.  This is profound… the kind of passionate bond that lasts a lifetime…

My Dearest,

When two souls, which have sought each other for,
however long in the throng, have finally found each other
…a union, fiery and pure as they themselves are…
begins on earth and continues forever in heaven.
This union is love, true love,…
a religion, which defies the loved one,
whose life comes from devotion and passion,
and for which the greatest sacrifices are the sweetest delights.
This is the love which you inspire in me…
Your soul is made to love with the purity and passion of angels;
but perhaps it can only love another angel, in which case I must tremble with apprehension.

Yours forever,
Victor Hugo

How I love him.  With everything I am and everything I am yet to be.  So much potential for so much beauty in life.  So much love, passion, respect, admiration, humility, encouragement… so much will unfold.

It’s been too many days without the sound of his voice, so I suffice with reading and re-reading the beauty of his words.  Perhaps he remembers the feeling when he wrote this old email.

Where is my love….
Where is my love….

06/07

I had a great week as you know, many ideas, many problems to fix, many thoughts, many pieces of happiness, many reflections, some of them very interesting and others not so, new plans, new music, new ways, new people,  new problems to face up, new situations, old situations, I can keep going with this but at the end walking in circles. There’s one thing that I realize in our last phone call: I miss you.

What, why, how, important questions, when and where could be irrelevant.

What:  Your smile, high and low sounds, some of them express tenderness and others
security about your self. Your voice, the difference between you talks to me, to your family, your friends. Your gestures, manners, your hands in your mouth, the way you seat in front the computer, the way you drive, the way you sleep.  The way you touch me, the way you sigh when I hold you, the way you looking at me, the way talk to me, the way you seduce me, the sounds you make when I make you love, how you breath when we are kissing each other, how happy you
are when you realize that I’m going to kiss below your belly, mmmh the things you say and how you say it, your mouth, your lips, your eyes, your  hair, your neck, your arms, your feet, your legs, your back, your front, your skin, your smell, your breathe, your warm body, our showers, your Tuna and Mango Salad, a cup of wine, your music in the mornings, the way you walk naked, your intelligence (lot of brains), your ideas, your reflections, your feeling of sorrow about poor people, or those ones who need help, your attention to pets, your tears, your bossy character (that some times doesn’t help you), YOU with your friends, with your family, with me, with my
family,…

Why: This is simple, you make me feel some thing amazing, wonderful, incredible, inside that I never had, no intellect, no science,

How much? Tanto cosi!!!