I was given the advice to write only what you love and the only thing I could think of was your name. Oh, and how beautiful it did look on paper, in neat or messy scrawl.
The stories I could write with you would be too much to only leave on paper, so please just take my hand and show me what those stories could be. We could make the sheets our mountains and the cushions our ocean. I could be foreign land only if you might be the treasure I would find there.
We can make the epic poem I find in your eyes and in the dragons den we will find our bodies as one.
“Write only what you love.”
But what if what you love should never be kept confined to paper?