To Be In Love

I need my grapes individually washed.

To be with me, you can’t just toss a bundle of them in a colander and splash some water over them. You need to scrub each grape by hand, getting off all the grit that I swear is otherwise there if you don’t.

I know. I’m not easy to love.

So if you’re trying to woo me, individually wash my grapes. I assure you, dear Reader, it works every single time.


To Be A Poet — Interlude By John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 9

On the other side Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed
Astonied stood and blank, while horrour chill
Ran through his veins and all his joints relaxed;
From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve
Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed:
Speecheless he stood and pale, till thus at length
First to himself he inward silence broke
O fairest of Creation, last and best
Of all God’s works, Creature in whom excelled
Whatever can to sight or thought be formed
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost
Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote!
Rather, how has thou yielded to transgress
The strict forbiddance, how to violate
The sacred fruit forbidden! Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown
And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die:
How can I live without thee! how forego
Thy sweet converse, and love so dearly joined
To live again in these wild woods forlorn!
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart

To Be A Poet, Part 3

It’s usually on the days that are a little off
that I miss you most

When the sun is up, but it’s cold outside
Or when it rises too slowly
Or sets too fast

When a stranger is rude
when they could’ve been kind
Or something valuable is lost

These are the days that I miss you most
On the days that are a little bit off