Sometimes I write things

I write things sometimes? Not as much as I should, but I try. This is a snippet from the book I'm working on. It's a bit of a love story, but it's also about learning to let go and the space between faith and doubt. Also swords and city states on the verge of war, because I am nothing if not a hack. 

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I do not know if you can hear me when I say I love you. When we sit here in silence, hot teas in hand, me with my book, you with your work. I want this shared space to be ours. I want the outside world to pass over us like a bad dream forgotten in the morning and for us to be still here, the air warm and comforting, and the scent of you in my lungs. This, this is what my love looks like. I do not need to fill the silence beyond the turn of the page, the scratch of your pen. Our breathing. The shuffle of legs and fabric. I do not need to entertain you, to hold you in place, to force you out. We only have to exist, to choose to spend our quietness together. 

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