For the rest, all I can say’s there’s naught and there’s no one like you in this world.
There’s nothing banishes my doubts as you do, and nothing helps me better feel my place and, aye, my brightness in existing.
Fact is, Talik, it’s difficult keeping clutch on my most adamant doubts regarding myself, when you speak this way. When you speak any way. A word from you, what’s writ in worry vanishes.
There’s that, what’s it. Sappho. ‘From every care you could release me.’ That’s you for me, and there’s a key thing as well from you, that there’s no erasing of the cause. I mean to say the ease you give’s not only writ in dreaming. Keeps its roots makes a home within the world, turns happiness to something more than dreamt, to something that can last.
(Above I said ‘all I can say’ which stands a misdirection, course. There’s no ‘all’ to my speaking about you or on you. I’ve got words endless for you, and sentiments as well, all this clamour in my heart that reaches for you, turns deeper, more insistent with your every text.)
Aye and for roots and for home, I’d like to build that nest with you. Another thought that sets me blushing, what it’d be to hold a life beside you, wake with my head against you nuzzled the night through then make breakfast at your side, what it’d be like for something simple as picking out curtains or selecting over oranges from the grocer, and what it’d be like coming home to find you, always you, and my heart struck to reeling every time.
Better still, coming home to you, to Sergiy, and to Dodo all. Making a rhythm of existence, all of us together.
There’s nothing better, that’s so, and simple fact.
[ … ]
[ … ]
Confession is I needed a moment. Took a moment having written that, bowled over by that thought, a home I’d like, I home I [ … ] think I’ve cause as well as wishing to hope for.
Well here and another confessional, less of the overwhelmed and overflooding heart, but no less true. Above there, I cited making breakfast with you and aye I’d like that, but I’ll cop to prodigious flaws in my cooking eh ‘skills.’ Scrambling eggs and toasting mostly unburnt bread’s within my reach, but beyond that I get over my head right quick. Don’t know what it is, just I’ve never found the knack.
Anyrate.
[ … ]
Here, if you wanted to live in Ukraine, I’d not argue. I mean what I say, that I’d find security with you anywhere at all.
Still though. I’d place my encouragement toward where’s nourishing for Sergiy. Where’s safe for him, and where’s familiar.
And as well, New York’d not be the sorriest place to live.
[ … ]
Not sorriest in the least, and might be I’ve thought on it before. Thought and discarded, owed to one reason and another, though fact is there’s work I can find most anywhere, or most anywhere that counts as eh not hazardous on the overall. There’s attraction to a city.
Be nice, keeping home nearer to friends.
Be nice, discerning how to make a life elsewhere. Be nice fucking off from this country, tbh, partial though I am to the circle I inhabit.
Be nicest of all, that life with you.
I’ll give it thought, New York, but I know my inclination. There’s pieces of life here I’d miss, but thing is, there’s more pieces by far I’d find there, I don’t doubt it in the least.
Well, eh, all of this hypothetically speaking, or else I mean [ … ] not so hypothetical, but as well, I don’t mean to push.
Final thinkings for this moment are I’ve no quarrel with mouthing off to those have it coming. Won’t say I’ve much bite to go with the bark, but there’s relish to giving a good ‘fuck off’ at times.
Also worth saying it ain’t without its attractions, you telling others a sound fuck off. Can’t say I wouldn’t like seeing it.
Can’t say either that it’s not incentive, the thought of my selfsame presence sending the Head N Stick Up The Arse brigade to a rage. That’s a satisfaction, aye, and let em stew in the mess they’ve made within their own selves.
And here’s this for you, Talik, moj ukochany. This tiny man's wonderful arse is all yours c; c; c;
3/3
There’s nothing banishes my doubts as you do, and nothing helps me better feel my place and, aye, my brightness in existing.
Fact is, Talik, it’s difficult keeping clutch on my most adamant doubts regarding myself, when you speak this way. When you speak any way. A word from you, what’s writ in worry vanishes.
There’s that, what’s it. Sappho. ‘From every care you could release me.’ That’s you for me, and there’s a key thing as well from you, that there’s no erasing of the cause. I mean to say the ease you give’s not only writ in dreaming. Keeps its roots makes a home within the world, turns happiness to something more than dreamt, to something that can last.
(Above I said ‘all I can say’ which stands a misdirection, course. There’s no ‘all’ to my speaking about you or on you. I’ve got words endless for you, and sentiments as well, all this clamour in my heart that reaches for you, turns deeper, more insistent with your every text.)
Aye and for roots and for home, I’d like to build that nest with you. Another thought that sets me blushing, what it’d be to hold a life beside you, wake with my head against you nuzzled the night through then make breakfast at your side, what it’d be like for something simple as picking out curtains or selecting over oranges from the grocer, and what it’d be like coming home to find you, always you, and my heart struck to reeling every time.
Better still, coming home to you, to Sergiy, and to Dodo all. Making a rhythm of existence, all of us together.
There’s nothing better, that’s so, and simple fact.
[ … ]
[ … ]
Confession is I needed a moment. Took a moment having written that, bowled over by that thought, a home I’d like, I home I [ … ] think I’ve cause as well as wishing to hope for.
Well here and another confessional, less of the overwhelmed and overflooding heart, but no less true. Above there, I cited making breakfast with you and aye I’d like that, but I’ll cop to prodigious flaws in my cooking eh ‘skills.’ Scrambling eggs and toasting mostly unburnt bread’s within my reach, but beyond that I get over my head right quick. Don’t know what it is, just I’ve never found the knack.
Anyrate.
[ … ]
Here, if you wanted to live in Ukraine, I’d not argue. I mean what I say, that I’d find security with you anywhere at all.
Still though. I’d place my encouragement toward where’s nourishing for Sergiy. Where’s safe for him, and where’s familiar.
And as well, New York’d not be the sorriest place to live.
[ … ]
Not sorriest in the least, and might be I’ve thought on it before. Thought and discarded, owed to one reason and another, though fact is there’s work I can find most anywhere, or most anywhere that counts as eh not hazardous on the overall. There’s attraction to a city.
Be nice, keeping home nearer to friends.
Be nice, discerning how to make a life elsewhere. Be nice fucking off from this country, tbh, partial though I am to the circle I inhabit.
Be nicest of all, that life with you.
I’ll give it thought, New York, but I know my inclination. There’s pieces of life here I’d miss, but thing is, there’s more pieces by far I’d find there, I don’t doubt it in the least.
Well, eh, all of this hypothetically speaking, or else I mean [ … ] not so hypothetical, but as well, I don’t mean to push.
Final thinkings for this moment are I’ve no quarrel with mouthing off to those have it coming. Won’t say I’ve much bite to go with the bark, but there’s relish to giving a good ‘fuck off’ at times.
Also worth saying it ain’t without its attractions, you telling others a sound fuck off. Can’t say I wouldn’t like seeing it.
Can’t say either that it’s not incentive, the thought of my selfsame presence sending the Head N Stick Up The Arse brigade to a rage. That’s a satisfaction, aye, and let em stew in the mess they’ve made within their own selves.
And here’s this for you, Talik, moj ukochany. This tiny man's wonderful arse is all yours c; c; c;