For those of you who don’t know, author David Levithan’s twitter (loversdiction) is, the majority of the time, filled with tweets that redefine words within the scope of a relationship. For example, today’s (31/12) is
“magnanimous, adj.: I liked that you offered me your leftover fries, and then later, when it was just assumed that I would take them.” There’s an absolute bunch of these tweets, and they can pretty well serve as prompts as well, so I’ve compiled a list of them (considering sometimes, twitter has a little freakout, and won’t give you all 2.7k of the tweets) under the cut, and will attempt to update them every so often.
Last updated: 31/12/2015
abide, v.:
It’s not a question of whether our insecurities, our desires can live together.
It’s a question of whether they can make a home.
absurd, adj.:
You pass out on the couch, a near-infant in an adult’s body, snoring. And what
do I do? I love you.
abundance,
n.: If I kept index cards of all your excuses, would that say something to you,
or would you just make another excuse?
abyss, n.:
There are moments when I feel trapped inside my mind, and there’s no way out,
and it’s only going to get worse.
acclimate,
v.: We know the lobster’s reaction when things are getting gradually worse, but
what about when they’re getting better?
accomplishment,
n.: That first anniversary, I wrote you a long letter, and all you needed was
to see the envelope to become teary-eyed.
accumulate,
v.: 4 cards, 14 photos, 1 pipe-cleaner heart, 12 ticketstubs, 12 paperclips in
a chain, 6 mixes, 1 gnome, 1 drawer, 2 ½ years
accustation,
n.: I’m not saying you don’t love me, just that you don’t love me enough.
acne, n.: The
scars come from everyone else seeing it, don’t they?
acolyte, n.:
I let you dazzle the 19-year-old, until you were winning too much. Then I went
to the bar, said class was over for the day.
adamantine,
adj.: The sharper and harder you become, the more I am in awe, and the more I
am afraid that I am too soft to stand it.
adaptation,
n.: We’re acting out the same old story, and it doesn’t matter which one of us
is Romeo or Juliet, because it ends the same.
affable,
adj.: After four drinks, you become like a puppy. Just as cute, just as
friendly, just as adored, just as intelligent.
affectation,
n.: When I told you not to call a ski mask a balaclava, you said my use of the
word affectation was an affectation.
aghast, adj.:
Some nights when we watch the news, the only thing that gets me through is the
fact that you are just as horrified as I am.
agile, adj.:
I wanted to spoon, but instead we sporked.
aglow, adj.:
You watch the fireworks, and I watch the world lit up around them.
aimless,
adj.: Every time I ask you what you want to do, there is, underneath, the
greater question of what you want to do with your life.
ajar, adj.:
It isn’t until I see the door ajar, the undercurrent of light from the kitchen,
that I can turn away and go back to sleep.
alabastard,
adj./n.: When you lie to me, you get a little paler. Maybe you’re just
overcompensating when you try not to blush.
alacrity, n.:
I bought you a watch. It ended up in a drawer.
alluvion, n.:
Is love the water or the shore?
amatory,
adj.: You rest your palm on my back, and I feel it there for a second after it
leaves, like the hum after the orchestra finishes.
ambiguity,
n.: When you say, “I couldn’t love you more,” does that mean that the love’s
hit infinity, or just that it’s reached its limit?
amortize, v.:
How many arguments does it take, how many infidelities (one?) before the
principle you’ve invested is suddenly worth losing?
ampere, v.:
The proper measure of fantastic sex.
anachronism,
n.: I want you to duel for my honor.
anchor, v.: I
drift, I drift, I drift, you stay.
anecdotal,
adj.: Sometimes I think of us as a paper-clip chain, useless except as a record
of its own steadfast creation.
angst, n.:
It’s the freedom to choose that does us in, that enables us to question every
choice, even when most of them are good ones.
annotation,
n.: If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t say any of these things. If I didn’t love
you, I wouldn’t try to figure it out.
announcement,
n.: Your quiche is on fire, as I expected. You said the wine was an ingredient,
but I knew better.
anodyne,
adj.: At times your love seems crystalline at its core; there’s no softness in
it, but there’s the comfort of indestructibility.
anoint, v.:
In the shower, seventh date, you used the shampoo to draw a heart on my
forehead, then swept it back into my hair.
anonymous,
adj.: There may have been times before we met when we passed each other on the
street or in a museum, unaware. That astounds me.
answer, n.:
Maybe is always safest, but it’s never satisfying.
antagonistic,
adj.: Do you think the dishes you leave in the sink miraculously clean
themselves?
anthropomorphize,
v.: There are moments when the rocks seem to know I love you, and others when
the grass can’t believe I hold on.
antithesis,
n.: I’m not sure the opposite of love is hate. I think it might be emptiness.
aperitif, n.:
You say it unwinds you but I say it unwinds everything else.
aperture, n.:
The things closest to our eyes are the hardest to keep in focus.
aplomb, n.:
As I watch from the wall, you own not only the dancefloor but the song, as if
Lady Gaga wrote it anticipating your every move.
apostasy, n:
Your hand, my thigh, your nephew’s confirmation service.
apparel, n.:
There are times I don’t mind doing the laundry, because folding your clothes
reminds me of the shape of you.
appease, v:
We stay at your mother’s house long enough to remember why we can’t stay there.
appendix, n.:
In the body, it’s in the middle; in the story, it’s at the end. I say, let’s
live now, and let the charts come after.
appraise, v.:
I sensed your friends thinking I was too quiet, so I tried to fix it with an
off-color knock-knock joke. Backfire.
arugula, n.:
You call it lettuce, I call it arugula, and that is the difference in our
childhoods, right there.
ascertain,
v.: If you want to know the truth, ask me for the truth. That’s a word I won’t
play around with.
ascetic,
adj.: I don’t want you to leave me, but a lot of the time I want you to leave
me alone.
aside, n.: I
like the way you set the never set the alarm for a nice, rounded number. I am
always waking up at 7:04 or 7:19.
askew, adj.:
Is ask the root of this word? Does every question alter the way that things are
going to be?
aspersion,
n.: It’s not that you slept with someone else, it’s that you must have turned
off your love for me in order to do so.
aspirational,
adj.: I want to be the type of person who can find another person and be happy
just with that.
aspirin, n.:
Mute your Playstation.
assertion,
n.: My love is the context that allows me to hate you for a moment without the
damage being irreparable.
assess, v.:
Someone should sell relationship insurance, so when there’s damage, there’s an
outside party to evaluate the claims.
assignation,
n.: This is a word used by betrayers to dress up what they do, which is betray.
association,
n.: I am going to say a word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes
to mind. The word is us.
assortment,
n.: In a sock drawer, it’s always the mismatched and orphaned ones that get the
most attention.
assuage, v.:
If even the torments are tender, then maybe we are not fragile so much as we
are open.
astute, adj.:
The present’s not ours to see, que sera sera
attempt, n,:
I am trying, but you are not, and by the time you start trying, I may stop.
attention,
n.: It should never feel like payment; when it does, that’s a sign it should
wander away.
attest, v.:
When we’re with my mother, I want you to see how good I’ve had it; when we’re with
yours, I am supposed to witness her faults.
attraction,n.:
The intensity rises not from the heart or the groin or the head, but from some
uncontrollable, unknown spot in between.
attrition,
n.: What a stupid war to fight, to see who loves most and can show it the
least.
awaken, v:
Why am I always the one who hears the alarm?
award, n.: I
asked why you kept the debate club trophy; you said it represented your peak.
Your half-seriousness made me more-than-half sad.
aware, adj.:
I walk on the knife’s edge of knowing you are lying but not knowing what the
lie is. I can’t stay here for long.
away, adj.:
Sometimes when you’re gone, I stay at home and still feel like I’m the one
who’s missing.
awkward,
adj.: It is inevitable that when you answer my phone and say, “Blowjob
service!”, it will be either my boss or my mother calling.
babble, v.: I
try to cover my fear with words, but the more they come, the more I feel like
I’m pulling at threads, not stitching them.
babel, n.:
You may be trying to cover your fear with your words, but I can’t see the fear
or hear the words; there’s only my own confusion.
bacchanalia,
n.: Your party lasts about five hours longer than I do.
bachelor, n.:
I hear this word and it sounds lonely and archaic, an errant uncle to the
things I want.
back, n.:
There is no turning away from the fact that you turned away; the returning must
be navigated around that.
backbeat, n.:
I can always hear your laughter in the room, a little bit off from everyone
else’s, but still enjoying itself.
backbeat, n.:
I can always hear your laughter in the room, a little bit off from everyone
else’s, but still enjoying itself.
backdrop, n.:
You were so hungover at the Grand Canyon that it was a lucky thing you only had
to look down, not up.
backhanded,
adj.: “You clean up good,” I say, when you haven’t; “You’re always right,” you
respond, when I’m not.
backlash, n.:
There are moment I worry I am taking you hostage when I say “I love you.”
backscratcher,
n.: “If God didn’t want us together,” you say, “why didn’t he make it possible
for us to do everything by ourselves?”
backslide,
n.: When you stop saying that you’ll stop, I know it’s started again for real.
backstage,
adj.: I love it when I walk in while you’re getting ready, and you’re nervous,
as if I’ve never seen you getting ready before.
backup, n.: I
kept the profile up for a month, just in case, but after a week, I stopped
reading the emails.
bad, adj.:
You only propose to me when you’re drunk.
badge, n.:
When we first dated, it would only take five minutes for me to bring it up; you
were always the first item for show-and-tell.
baggage, n.:
I want so much to let go of the past, but if we did, what would we have to
blame besides ourselves?
bail, v.: You
like to play the Get Out of Jail Free card, without ever realizing that I’m the
one who quietly pays the bill.
bailiwick,
n.: If you don’t lecture me on authors you’ve never read, I won’t talk to you
about drugs I’ve never tried.
bait, v.: I
am not an innocent party. I know what will set you off and I use it.
balaclava,
n.: There is such a fine line between looking like a hipster and looking like a
terrorist.
balance, v.:
What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want our relationship to be a balance
beam; I want it to be an avenue.
balderdash,
n.: I’m trying to get you home and you say, “You’re on my spleen!” so I say
“You shouldn’t leave it out!” and we both laugh.
ballast, n.:
When we moved in together, I used it as a reason to get rid of some of my
adolescent possessions; it was time for new things.
ballast, n.:
When we moved in together, I used it as a reason to get rid of some of my
adolescent possessions; it was time for new things.
ballast, n.:
When we moved in together, I used it as a reason to get rid of some of my
adolescent possessions; it was time for new things.
ballyhoo, n.:
We dance around the kitchen to “Blister in the Sun” until we are out of breath,
grinning without having to think about it.
balm, n.:
Sometimes even you get sick of the drinking and the noise, and you take us far
enough away to be away, and there we talk.
bandage, n.:
They say the best thing to do is rip it off. But what if the wound is still
healing?
bandwagon,
n.: Sometimes I hear the zeitgeist creepling into your vocabulary. I snicker,
but within weeks I am asking you WTF?
banish, v.:
You still think that someday your prince will come, and sometimes I catch you
looking for him, when you think I don’t notice.
bank, v.:
When I make you owe me something, am I putting it away for a rainy day, or am I
turning too quickly on a slippery slope?
banter, v.:
When there is a lightness in the language, the lives temporarily follow suit.
bar, n./v.:
You say it’s your release; I say it draws too tight a circle around you. If
feeling good is all you feel, there’s nothing left.
barbaric,
adj.: I cannot watch you eating a lobster. It’s like going on a date with a
caveperson, in a baby’s bib.
barbed, adj.:
When we go with you to dinner with your mother, I act as a human shield, trying
to deflect her unpleasantries.
bare, adj.:
It’s not the spur of the sex but the comfort of the vulnerability that gives
this nakedness its meaning.
bark, n.:
You’ve never bitten me, so I can’t honestly tell you which is worse.
barrage, n.:
My thoughts are a 24-hr news channel of what goes wrong, and at night, the
volume gets loud.
barrel. v:
There are times that I am having so much fun with you that I don’t care if
we’re headed over the falls.
bashful,
adj.: Whenever I want to sing along, I turn the volume up first.
basic, adj.:
Acknowledge that I have a heart, and know that when you don’t, you fail to
acknowledge me.
basis, n.:
You leave notes for me in the strangest places, and in the strangest way, this
is one of the things I love the most.
bask, v: The
summer day transforms time into something that no longer concerns us, and helps
us revel in the slower joys.
bathrobe, n.:
It emerged in winter, and you made fun of its tatters, but later said you’d
miss it like you’d miss all my quirks.
bathwater,
n.: There are many moments when I don’t mind if you throw both of them out.
battle, n.:
We line up our armies and prepare for war; I can’t help but think that some of
my more sentimental soldiers are on your side.
battleax, n.:
Your mother’s first words to me were: “You’re trailing mud into the house.”
be, v.: Our
love would flourish, if we didn’t keep getting in its way.
beach, n.:
The only place I don’t mind being in your shadow.
beacon, n.: I
am drawn to the idea of a time when I wake up next to you for the
ten-thousandth time and feel nothing but joy.
beagle, n.:
One of these days, you’re going to mug a dogwalker, just so you can take one
home.
beamy, adj.
You do the same little dance when the sun comes out that you do when you’re
running through the rain.
bear, n. and
v.: You are wrestling with it – it is overpowering you – and you wonder how
much more confusion you can take.
beard, n.:
When I kiss you and you bristle, I know it’s time to shave.
bearer, n.:
You deliver your sorrows, and you deliver them to me. I take them – never
gladly, but understanding it must be done.
beat, n. and
v.: It is the tick that hammers us, the tock that comes to blows, and the
lubdub that saves us every time.
beautiful,
adj.: The word starling, the color of the sky at 40,000 feet, the orchestra
tuning its instruments, the sharing of the universe
becalm, v.:
As I lose myself in the high pitch of getting through the day, I need you to be
the low murmur of other cares.
because,
conj.: In the absence of higher meaning, I strive for a generous life, and find
contentment therein.
beckon, v.:
You dare me to leap, so I leap. You dare me not to think so much, but I keep on
thinking.
become, v.:
We don’t become like each other so much as we adopt the versions of ourselves
that are most compatible.
bed, n.:
Sixty inches by eighty inches, and half our life together.
bedfellow,
n.: The strange thing is the way the choreography of sleep accommodates such an
invasion of space.
been, v.: At
times, the past feels like the destination, in the way we accumulate enough of
it to prop us up.
before,
conj.: There were hundreds of stations and I was only listening to a dozen of
them.
beg, v.: I
want you to want me.
begin, v.:
There were more favorite books listed on your profile than favorite anything
else, and I thought, this is worth a date.
begrudging,
adj.: I’ll concede that the capital of Montana is Helena if you concede that
even after two years, you need to say thank you.
beguile, v.:
We all dance with veils, revealing enough of the truth to entice, but not
enough to fully confront.
behavior, n.:
Even at your worst, you never spill your drink, which leads me to believe
you’re focusing on something, just not me.
behind, adj.:
Sometimes I’m resentful you’re rushing and I’m lagging; other times I’m
grateful you’re clearing the path.
behoove, v.:
“It would behoove you to ready the horses,” I say, and you reply, “I’m not
behooven to any man!”
beige, adj.:
I say it’s melancholy, and you say it goes with everything.
belabor, v.:
The harder you press on the point, the less it acts as a point, and the more
becomes a series of cracks radiating out.
berserk, n.:
It seems crazy to me that the first ‘r’ is silent.
berth, n.: We
thought it would be romantic to go by train; there was no sex that night, only
attempts at balance.
beseech, v.:
If you stay, do it with as much care and planning as you’d use to leave.
beside,
prep.: I don’t want you to have my back. I want you to have my side. Because
with you there, the winds can’t turn me.
besotted,
adj.: Ninth date, I was so lovedazed that when the check came, I signed your
name instead of mine.
best, adj.:
You do yours when you bring out mine; I do mine when I bring out yours.
bet. v.: Every
day we’re together, every week or year, it feels like a deep wager of my future
on you.
betrayal, n.:
I don’t know which is worse – that you did it, or that you wanted to.
betroth, v:
Slowly you find your thoughts are married, your possessions are married, your
plans are married, and it almost seems inevitable.
between,
prep.: I live in the area bounded by my expectations and my disappointments.
bewilder, v.:
How can you remember without fail to make a wish at 11:11, but not to meet me
for dinner at 7:00?
bias, n.: I
find you beautiful, but of course I’m biased, because if you’re not, that
reflects on me in some way.
bibliography,
n.: I wish all of our lives were followed by the list of works that influenced
us, the raw ingredients of our beliefs.
bicker, v.:
There are times when we are enjoying it too much for it to be arguing. It’s all
joust and parry, no bloodletting.
bifurcate,
v.: The metaphorical condition of the heart mirrors where we are. If we split,
it splits. If we’re together, it’s together.
bigamy, n.:
You can’t be married to the bottle and be married to me. The bottle doesn’t
play fair, and I won’t live with unfairness.
bill, v.:
There comes a time when the love stops being freelance. No longer charging by
the hour, you want the full salary.
billboard,
n.: NOT PREGNANT? WE CAN HELP, it reads. Later that night, you come out of the
bathroom and say, “I can help.”
bind, v.: You
think it holds us together, but I can’t help but thing of the binding of feet,
that constriction.
binge, n.:
You count the bottles when they’re full. I count them when they’re empty.
birdsong, n.:
Awake before you, lying there, window open; the sound glimmers into the room,
and I feel weightless.
birthday, n.:
It was like you were wrapping my friends in the decoration of a party and
regifting them to me.
birthmark,
n.: Sometimes it’s a hand reaching up, sometimes a star plummeting down. I can
trace each trajectory across your collarbone.
birthplace,
n.: The only time I ever wished my mom had turned my childhood bedroom into a
guest room was when you wanted to have sex there.
bite, v.: I
hear the teeth in your voice, but don’t pull away fast enough.
bitter, adj.:
I like the feeling of it against my tongue, the breakage of the sweet, the
sharper sensation, the aftertaste of chaos.
bizarre,
adj.: I never thought I would be the type of person who would smell the pillow
after you left, just to find your echo there.
board, n.: I
don’t want a Monopoly life – making money, losing it, making more, paying rent,
around and around, with nothing else to do.
body, n.:
When it craves, when it stays awake with thoughts and longing, it does not have
its own best interests at heart.
bogeyman, n.:
The person hiding under the bed, keeping me awake, is the version of me that I
know no one will ever love.
boggle, v.: I
see ART, you see RAT. I see NOW, you see WON. I see TON, you see NOT. I puzzle
over this as you shake things up again.
bohemian,
adj.: I confessed to you: “I still want to wander the world, but I no longer
want to sleep on the floor of where I stay.
boilerplate,
n.: What I want more than sex, more than compliments, more than words, is for
me to be trusted, and you to be trustworthy.
bold, adj.: I
warned you – it’s not my nature to say the most striking thing, or even to
think it. I will always be more italic than bold.
bolt, n. and
v.: The noun stays, the verb goes. I feel we all have that potential, to shift
our meaning because of the way we’re used.
bomb, n.: We
like to believe they tick, but the reality is that they are no longer tied to
clocks or sounds, just the undetectable wrong.
bombard, v.:
When you use “I love you” to prove something, it proves nothing but your own
desperation.
bombast, n.:
You can dazzle me with your words, but when it comes to words, dazzle isn’t at
all what I’m looking for.
bondage, n.:
You don’t need handcuffs or whips or chains for the power struggle to be there,
for it to be in control.
bonhomie, n.:
I think certain channels exist solely so we can sit like this, make our
comments, share a mindless pause in the mindful world.
bonus, n.:
They give you an extra hundred dollars for Christmas, and you call me from work
to invite me to drink it with you.
book, n.:
Find yourself between the lines, between the words, even in the space within
the letters, the ones that give them shape.
bookish,
adj.: This was my base-level requirement, my litmus adjective.
boondocks,
n.: We drive around your hometown, and you are a teen again, and I am the
semi-adult you’ve brought along to pull you back out.
boor, n.: One
of the reasons I loathe your bad behavior is that it gives my own bad behavior
permission to let loose.
border, n.: I
am always making sure to keep enough of me away from you, in case of
emergencies.
bore, v.:
Every time you go on like that, it digs a hole in me and all I feel are the
minutes slipping through, into a pile of wasted time.
born, adj.:
“It wasn’t the first time you hurt me,” your mother says over dinner, “and it
wasn’t the last.”
borrow, v.:
First it’s your phrases, then intonations, then thoughts. Finally, I don’t
notice the borrowing. It’s as if they’re mine.
bossy, adj.:
Where adult responsibility meets infantile urges, the tantrum of power, the
two-dimensional construction of you and me.
both, adj.:
With one simple word, we are joined - and yet it still acknowledges that we are
two. This is my ideal.
bother, v.:
Sometimes I think this should be the verb form of “both.”
bottleneck,
n.: After you’ve had a few, I am caught. None of the many things I’m feeling
will get through.
bottom, n.:
At the deepest point of the darkest moments is a mirror which I use to blame
myself for everything.
bouncer, n.:
You should not laugh when he cards me, and I should not be too complimented.
bounty, n.:
That Thanksgiving, we so got much more than usual at the grocery store, then
went home and let ourselves eat whatever we wanted.
bouquet, n.:
One each day for twelve days, and you were right – it meant so much more.
bourgeoisie,
n.: That Thanksgiving, we had boursin and salmon and Pop Tarts and cucumber
sandwiches and felt so pretentiously happy.
bovine, adj.:
The day after that Thanksgiving, we couldn’t really look at food, as if the
perpetual meal had been a one-night stand.
bow, v.: You
grab the mic and sing Kelly ‘til you’re green, and I join in the applause as
you revel in the attention you won’t remember.
bowling, n.:
I do admit to keeping a list in my mind of the things that I am better at than
you, but it’s a pretty silly list.
box, v.: We
start to have the conversation, but when I mention the ring, you say, “What? Isn’t
it more fun boxing outside of one?”
boy, n.: I
look at relationships and often feel like I am still looking at my parents,
trying to figure the whole thing out.
boycott, n.:
I refuse to deal with men who act like boys, men who don’t want to know
anything more than themselves.
brace, v./n.:
When I brace myself around you, it becomes a shell around me, supporting and
constraining. It keeps me up, but I can’t move.
braided,
adj.: I love when our fingers are braided together, our limbs, our bodies. And
the loosening when it’s over, the freedom.
brainwash,
v.: I don’t happen to think it’s washing at all; it’s an accumulation of dirt
that takes on the shape of rationality.
bramble, n.:
Poor prince, to go through so much and to have her only remember the kiss,
which is, let’s face it, the easy part.
brave, adj.:
My biggest enemy is the voice of doubt, and my biggest challenge comes in
shutting it out when it will not allow me peace.
bravura,
adj.: I wish Meryl Streep would rent herself out for two hours, to play me and
get everything right.
brazen, adj.:
You looked at him like he was on sale and then at me like I was full price, and
I felt left on the shelf.
break, n..:
Take one or make one? Is it something you steal or something you create?
brevity, n.:
Please.
bribery, n.:
I get you to come to my office party by listing the forms of alcohol that will
be there, which is a mistake.
brick, n.: We
want to believe it’s so solid, but if you chip away at it and chip away at it,
it will crumble.
brief, n.: My
underwear is named after a period of time, and I don’t know why until the pants
come off and the briefs quickly follow.
brightness,
n.: Intelligence can be a form of light.
brilliant,
adj.: I also love how you call the sky brilliant, the moon brilliant when it’s
beautiful, as if giving credit for the design.
brink, n.:
There will come a time when I will either stop loving you or I will stop
believing that you can love me.
broad, n.:
You proclaim yourself a broad on Broadway and belt out a Merman tune. Nobody
even stops to look, we’re so NY.
broken, adj.:
How many breaks does it take to leave the realm of the fixable? It’s certainly
more than one.
bromide, n.:
It sounds like a sedative, and perhaps that’s what clichés are.
brood, n./v.:
When I talk about having kids, you list the movies we’d never see, the parties
we’d never go to, the life we wouldn’t have.
browbeat, v.:
I have tried practicing in mirrors, trying to perfect that look of careless
cruelty. It only manages to crack me up.
bruise, v.:
For all the drinking, for all the fights, never this. But it worries me that
Iproud of you, of us, for never bruising.
brunt, n.:
Let’s not pretend that I don’t do it too. Sometimes I am the storm and you are
the ship, and time is the ocean that waits it out.
bubble, n.:
Happiness floats the same way, wobbly and translucent and dazzling. Then it
vanishes, and you want to fill the air with more.
bud, v.:
Tender is the right adjective here. You can cup it in your hands, but only for
a moment. It needs light and room to grow.
buffer, v.:
You see me retreating at parties and move in to make sure no one realizes the
me-sized gap is there.
bug, n.: Any
insect, looked at closely, is fascinating. So when I say you’re bugging me, I
should try to pin down its complicated design.
building,
v./n.: These solid structures we trust so much could really just be verbs, the
constant act of their own creation.
bulletproof,
adj.: I don’t want an invulnerable heart, but I want everything else to be
protected, so your aim would have to be perfect.
bummed, adj.:
The disappointment leaves you that much poorer, so your mind goes wandering the
streets, looking for warmth or maybe home.
bump, n.:
“It’s a bug bite,” you assured me. “You’re not dying.” And I said, “But can’t
you die from a bug bite? If it’s the right bug?”
buoy, v.: At
its best, my hope in you becomes a hope in everything, and my hope in
everything becomes a hope in you.
burglar, n.:
Sometimes I feel you’ve stolen my life, and I look at the empty room and can’t
remember what used to be there.
burn, v.: I
can understand why lovers never burned letters, even if told to do so. Now we
no longer burn; we delete. Something’s been lost.
bury, v.: You
were so distraught you tried to bury yourself into my shoulder, into the crook
of my neck. Unlike the grave, I welcomed you.
business, n.:
I coach you for hours, then you go in there and say, “Can I have a raise?” and
get it. I retire from coaching.
bustle, n.:
Every morning is like the wordless opening credits of our sitcom – cupboards
open, coffee poured, clock watching.
cagey, adj.:
Your evasiveness puts us both behind bars.
cajole, v.: I
know my moods are hard to read; I’m not fluent myself. Ask me to risk
something, and it’s anyone’s guess what I’ll say.
cakewalk, n.:
The icing almost defeated you. It looked like PUPPY BIRTHING TO YOU – but the
joke became as much a gift as the baking.
calamine, n.:
I want you to be the thing that covers up my mistakes and makes them stop itching.
Which is a lot to expect from a lover.
calculated,
adj.: Sometimes I can’t trust your apologies, because they seem to have an
undercurrent of cold mathematics beneath the words.
calendar, n.:
I need you more in January than I do in June.
calibration,
n.: The trick of a relationship isn’t fitting your lives together so much as
fitting your lives, together, into time.
call, n.:
When I’m away, I still want you to be the last voice of the night.
callous,
adj.: see callus
callow, adj.:
You hold onto a fanciful notion that socks have lives of their own, which is
why you leave them wherever you take them off.
callus, n.: I
want to develop that second dull skin, so used to your carelessness that I am
impervious to it.
calm, n.:
Whether a field or an ocean, calm to be is always an expanse, and the only way
I can get there is to become less crowded.
calumny, n.:
When you black it out, sometimes I say you were mean, even when you weren’t, as
punishment for the other nights you were.
calvary, n.:
When I am trapped in an awkward corner, you know to come over and throw in the
conversational crowbar that will set me free.
camera, n.:
What I capture is something of you and something of the way I look at you.
camouflage,
n.: There are still times at work when I feel I am playing dress-up, and then I
come home to you and no longer feel ungenuine.
camp, v.: We
wanted stars but instead got rain, the tent a leaking ship, the sleeping bag
the life raft in our companionable misery.
campus, n.:
Site of your youthful glories; I see it only makes you feel older, a bell
that’s still heard, but is no longer a bell.
canary, n.:
It gets bad enough that I am willing to kill the bird, send it into the
coalmine, to ask if you think it will ever get better.
cancellation,
n.: We love our friends, but we also love it when plans fall through, and we’re
given the gift of open time.
candid, adj.:
Whenever you nibble my ear, I just want to laugh. You think it’s sexy, but
you’d be better off an inch or two lower.
candle, n.:
It doesn’t create much light, but it gives us more with its flicker, a drawing
in of space and time, an intimacy of air.
candy, n.:
The desire for candy is tied up in a childlike sense of unfairness and reward;
you can’t have something else, so you have this.
canker, n.: a
disease that causes open wounds; in the dimmer days, a synonym for love, and
from that, a synonym for life.
canon, n.: I
am skeptical of your love of Salinger; the world will disappoint you, because
you want it to disappoint you.
canoodle, v.:
Can I confess, this part is my favorite, when lust and humor intermingle, when
the fun banishes everything else.
canopy, n.:
We draw the sheets over our heads, let the sunlight create a white cotton cloud
for us to smile within.
canthus, n.:
I spy your look as I push away; I am expecting contempt, but when I see
confusion, I slow down, let you back into the field.
canvas, n.:
We say it’s blank, but really aren’t we overpainting? Lines and colors bleed
through. We must make them part of our creation.
canvass, v.:
You disappear from the bar. I check everywhere, ask everyone, know nothing,
want something.
capable,
adj.: It’s the double proof we look for, that we are able to love someone that
much, and inspire that much love in return.
cape, n.: In
your underwear, blanket over your shoulders. I smile at the inadvertent
superhero pose, and your smile back is your superpower.
caper, n.: A
co-worker asks how we met; you say, “We were both trying to steal the Hope
Diamond. Serendipity to try at the same time.”
capitulate,
v.: You want the aisle seat much more than I want to avoid the middle seat, so
that’s how it works. But I get the armrest.
capo, n:
Press me tighter and you raise the pitch.
capricious,
adj.: I can’t help but wonder how someone who takes ten minutes to choose a
shirt can stay with the same person forever.
capsize, v.:
Push me too far and we both hit the water. But sometimes that cold shock, that
clutch for safety, is what we need.
caption, n.:
I spend hours trying to win the contest in the back. You say the phrase “I told
you to bring a penguin” works every time.
caramel, n..:
The sexy song melts from the speakers; you dance veil-less and grinning,
sweeping closer, closer to me.
carapace, n.:
Sometimes I want to build the shell around us both, and sometimes I only want
it around me.
carbon, n.:
What’s left of us is a part we don’t even see.
card, n: I
accuse you of not playing with a full deck, and you say it doesn’t matter, as
long as you have the right five cards.
cardigan, n.:
“It’s like wearing high school,” you say, and I marvel that it’s known you so
much longer than I have, without unraveling.
care, n.:
This is the core of it, that I want your happiness, your safety, your success
just as much as I want my own.
career, n.:
For me, this means a professional track; for you, it’s the lurch and sway
onward, veering from point to point.
careful,
adj.: Tell me the truth, but tell it to me with kindness.
caregiver.
n.: Fear of the future is no reason to stay together, but I’ll admit it’s
there, not wanting to be alone at eighty.
careless,
adj.: You don’t introduce me into the conversation, so I stand there, awkwardly
erased.
caress, v.:
Hands and breath become interchangeable, the same sensation.
carnation,
n.: The only level of commitment I was ready for in middle school was white, so
when I got to high school, pink was a big step.
carnivore,
n.: Watching you eat ribs, I feel a primal disgust.
carousel, n.:
You ride among the six-year-olds, and I stand on the side with the parents,
aniticipating your every gleeful arrival.
carp, v.:
Your mother’s complaints shoot like fish from her mouth, then hit the dry land
of your not caring.
carry, v.: It
isn’t as clear-cut as halving the load. Love isn’t like that. I can carry the
one bag that won’t fit in your full hands.
cartography,
n.: None of the lines in your palm are long enough. I trace a line from there
down to the sole of your foot for our future.
carve, v.: I
don’t want to see my name in your arm, but I wouldn’t mind it if you scratched
it onto a bench or a doorway.
cash, n.:
When you’ve been drinking, ATM stands for At The Moment, and at those moments,
my wallet’s usually the nearest.
cassette, n.:
This was how I discovered music could be magnetic, and that the magnetism could
be shared.
cast, n./v.:
It’s a wide net that our characters fall into; when we enter each other’s
lives, we bring so many people along.
castaway, n.:
“You’re the one I’d take to a desert island,” you tell me, “even though neither
of us can fish, hunt, or cook.”
castigate, v.:
I hate it when you fill me with venom, which I release in a brutal tone I don’t
want to be my own.
castle, n.:
Build as big and ornate a fantasy as you want; if you’re living there alone,
it’ll only make it seem emptier.
casual,
adj.:The best way to say “I love you” isn’t with trumpets or profound
silence,but with the steady, normal soundtrack of a heartbeat.
casualty, n.:
We are not allowed to make out anymore while something is in the oven; too many
dinners have been unmade this way.
catacomb, n.:
There are burial grounds in your heart that you still haven’t opened for me to
see.
catalyst, n.:
At first, being with you is the reason for missing you. The risk is that
missing you becomes the reason for being with you.
cataplexy,
n.: The same paralysis can be caused by fear or ecstasy. I’d prefer the shock
of you to be positive, but it isn’t always.
catastatis,
n.: This time when you say we need to talk, I know it will lead to the
confrontation we need.
catastrophic,
adj.: To be left alone after giving you everything. How do you rebuild so many
cities, so many lives extinguished within me?
catatonia,
n.: I have had moments when all I could do was blink. I blinked my way out of
them.
catch, n.:
That tremor in your voice is the real you, pulling against what you’re saying,
wanting me to know it’s still there.
categorical,
adj.: No room for question? There is always room for question, in any category
of speaking.
catenate, v.:
The links in the invisible chain between us have different sizes and shapes,
and some are more easily broken than others.
caterwaul,
v.: When you’re howling, you don’t really care about hitting the right notes.
catharsis,
n.: Why do you think I write all these things down?
cathedral,
n.: We want our love to last, but we don’t have hundreds of years to build it.
catnap, v.: Stealing
slumber on a Sunday afternoon; finding the sunny spot on the sheets and staying
there, time evaporating.
causality,
n.: After a while, it feels like it is all you-therefore-I, not
I-therefore-you.
caustic,
adj.: Men, I tell you, do not have muffin tops. They have spare tires. And you
say, no, spare tires are kept out of sight.
caution, n.:
You are unprepared to be alone.
cautionary,
adj.: I am glad there are still princes and princesses, to spell out the fairy
tales in more messy, realistic terms.
caveat, n.: I
often disappoint myself, so I am bound to disappoint you.
cavort, v.:
“I feel,” you said, “that to cavort, you need to be near a body of water, or a
pool.” I showed you to the tub.
ceasefire,
n.: Love is raising the white flag even when the war could last for days.
celestial,
adj.: We drive north, past the light-shadow of the city, to sit in awe at the
sheer depth of the universe.
cellular,
adj.: Sometimes it feels that you’ve won me over on the most basic level, that
even when I want to go, the body votes to stay.
cement, n.:
There are mornings when I wake up and feel I’m drowning in cement, and I know I
have to make it through before it dries.
cemetery, n.:
We stand in reverential silence. We don’t know anybody buried here, but the
point is that it could be anyone, could be us.
censor, v.:
You try to gain power over me by gaining power over my words. It won’t work,
because my words are stronger than you.
center, n.: I
push and push to find out what’s at your core, afraid that when I get there, it
will be written in a language I can’t read.
centerfold, n.:
Hard to think of it now, the thrill that a magazine could give, that fantasies
once came with staple marks.
centerpiece,
n.: Drunkenly, you steal the arrangement from the wedded couple’s table,
attempting to hide it under your shirt.
centrifugal,
adj.: What if, instead of centering us, love really pulls us off our axis? The
heart is nowhere near the center of the body.
cereal, n.: I
am more likely to have it for breakfast and you are more likely to have it for
dinner.
cerebral,
adj.: Yes, you have your provable moments of intelligence, but I’d rather you
be thoughtful.
ceremony, n.:
Of course I think about it sometimes, all of our friends watching as we write
our love down in gold.
certain,
adj.: The closer you look at it, the more this becomes an imaginary word.
chafe, v.:
That’s the rub, that the words that hold close can also hold too close.
chaff, n.:
I’ve turned all your ex-boyfriends into straw men.
chair, n.:
Such a part of love: sitting in separate places, but at the same table.
charade, n.:
Three word phrase. First word “I.” Third word “you.” Despite your movements,
second word unclear.
charge, v.:
There’s the surge at the start, then it evens out into the comfort of knowing
the electricity is always waiting in the walls.
charismatic,
adj.: You could fill an ocean with all the free drinks you’ve flirted yourself
into.
charity, n.:
Consider it a donation to your better self.
charm, n.:
You have to be careful, because sometimes when you turn it on too high, you
attract snakes.
chase, v.:
There’s no doubt that you will always be the one ahead, and I either have to
learn to love the pursuit or step away from it.
chaser, n.:
What if I’m the beer and someone else is the whiskey?
chaste, adj.:
The delectable desire of being in the crowd and wanting each other badly,
conveying it in the scantest of touches.
chastise, v.:
“Don’t be so chaste,” you say, tugging playfully at my belt. A few of your
friends laugh, but most look away.
chat, v.: You
can never tell when the safety of words will hinge into the danger of words,
when the meaningless means more than it should.
cheapen, v.:
You stray, and what hurts me most is how devalued I feel.
checkmate,
n.: You’ve left me with nothing but pawns, but we have you surrounded.
chemistry,
n.: We say it’s a matter of chemistry, but isn’t chemistry as likely to produce
toxins as it is charge?
cherish, v.:
You say you wish there were a way to take my sleeping breaths, fold them up,
and carry them in your pocket throughout the day.
chiaroscuro,
n.: There is such a contrast between the good days and the bad, between my
highs and lows. I wish I could blur the shadows.
chic, adj.:
You insist that it’s French for “you look foolish.”
chicanery,
n.: You manipulate the words and expect me to move along with them, as if I am
the marionette to whatever truth you create.
childish,
adj.: Adamant, I act like a human ball of want, focused on the one thing that’s
so essential, at least for the next five minutes.
chill, n.:
When it comes from the outside, we bundle into each other, but when it’s
inside, we bundle into ourselves.
chimera, n.:
I find myself alone in a pure, invulnerable moment, and wonder if the next
moment will find me waking up.
chivalrous,
adj.: The pregnant women always find it amusing to see us compete to be the one
to give up the subway seat.
choice, n.:
You have to remember, there is always a choice, in every situation. It’s just a
matter of the strength it takes to make it.
choir, n.: I
am suspicious of harmonious, unanimous advice; it rings clear, but I could
belong to a different denomination.
choleric,
adj.: I pretend that you’re the one who always springs the temper trap, but my
fuse is easier to hide because it’s shorter.
choosy, adj.:
My friends called it high standards when I said I’d rather be alone than be
with someone who wasn’t better than being alone.
chore, n.: It
must take strategy on your part, for me to be the one who always changes the
toilet paper.
choreography,
n.: I prefer to believe we make our own steps, but every now and then there’s a
moment that feels plotted.
chromosome,
n.: I feel I know your mother a little from the way you borrow her stern, judgy
voice without noticing.
chronology,
n.: Recollections never wait in a row. They wait in a crowd, some memories
pushing to the front, demanding to be seen.
chrysalis,
n.: The third night we were together, I started to feel the delicate hopes
weaving.
church, n.:
We lay on our backs and steepled our fingers together, creating a small, holy
moment where no prayers need to be said.
cicatrix, n.:
When a leaf falls off a branch, a scar remains. Departure marks us.
cinder, n.:
Even when I try to cool myself to you, there’s a part that remains on fire, and
will remain so even if we’re no longer together.
cinematic,
adj.: I live for the moments when our small-screen existence suddenly becomes
wide-screen, and we are swept into the panorama.
circadian,
adj.: The waking and the sleeping are the turns of our tides, and everything in
between is an unpredictable flow.
circle, n.:
Is it the ring that keeps us contained or the wheel that moves us forward? Our
momentum defines our shape.
circulatory,
adj.: Why does the hurt last longer in my system than the euphoria? Is it my
nature to be so unsettled?
circumnavigate,
v.: My lips trace an invisible equator across your face; my finger continues
the exploration around the back of your head.
circumstantial,
adj.: My only evidence is what we do with our time together, and what you do
with our time apart.
city, n.:
It’s the silent partner in all we do, as many possibilities as there are
lightbulbs, always familiar and never entirely knowable.
civil, adj.:
We’re both so bad at disguising our fury; if I ever turned to you and saw a
polite veneer, I’d know all was lost.
claim, v.: I
know I should say that I want to be yours, but really I want to belong with
you, not to you.
clairvoyant,
adj.: It’s the most everyday of sixth senses, the way I can read your answers
before they’re said aloud.
clamor, v.:
Some days are like an ocean of kindergartners armed with pots and pans, and I
have to try to find the melody beneath.
clan, n.:
Whily my family seems like a gift, yours feels like a tyranny, the branches
coming to grab you, instead of supporting.
clandestine,
adj.: Our feet touch under the table and start their own conversation.
claptrap, n.:
“When I was a kid, I could levitate,” you say after the ninth or tenth drink.
“When I was a kid, I could fly.”
clarification,
n.: You think that loneliness is something that can only happen if we’re apart,
but that’s not true.
clasp, v.: As
you heave with sobs, as the world splinters into your skin, I reach around your
back and hold on.
classic, n.:
A romance is a romance because it ends at the beginning. We don’t want to see
the next forty years of Elizabeth and Darcy.
classmate,
n.: You introduce him as someone you went to school with, but I can tell it’s
not classrooms that he’s remembering.
classy, adj.:
You slip the cigar ring onto my finger. “Do you know what that means?” you ask,
then answer, “It means I smoked a cigar.”
clastic,
adj.: How I wish the metaphorical heart was a physical, separable thing, so I
could pull it from my chest and study it closely.
claustrophobia,
n.: In order for a relationship to work, it needs many open windows and many
open doors.
clean, adj.:
I stand under the hot shower for long, mindless minutes, and let the day wash
out of my body, down the drain.
cleave, v.:
Rocks don’t split at random. There is a weak spot in the solid-seeming surface,
and if enough stress is placed there, it breaks.
clever, adj.:
Sometimes all we need is to be entertained by each other, to have the words fly
and leave clever trails.
cliché, n.:
It should really be “heels over head.” When you leave me head over heels, I’m
just standing there.
climax, n.:
The climax comes not when the truth is revealed, but when it is faced.
cling, v.: If
you sense me holding back, it’s often because I fear my own neediness, and
don’t want you to fear my neediness as well.
clinical,
adj.: “What’s wrong with us?” I asked, and if you’d answered with a detached
diagnosis, it would have been over.
clockwork,
n.: The deep satisfaction of when we move in tandem, the two cogs in a small
machine of our own devising.
cloistral,
adj.: There is always the suspicion that it might be better to leave the world
and stay in it at the same time.
closer, adj.:
So come on.
cloudburst,
n.: The catharsis that comes when the story rushes out, when the weight of the
sky turns into the speed of the rain.
clover, n.: I
knew it was love when you became the thing I wished for.
club, n.:
Your group of friends; a blunt instrument
clueless,
adj.: I find myself in the self-help section, but realize these authors can’t
help, because none of them know you or me.
clumsy, adj.:
The drunker you get, the more likely you are to drop things, like bottles or
chips or my expectations.
coagulate,
v.: It is a dangerous thing, this thickening of affection; you want it to have
weight, but not to be an immovable burden.
coax, v.:
Sometimes I’m the dog running around the room and sometimes I’m the cat hiding
under the couch, and I need you to make it right.
cockfight,
n.: You measure your worth in other people’s arguments, so you flirt with guys,
and if I don’t defend myself, you’re offended.
cocktail, n.:
The stronger you are, the weaker you get, and the stronger I need to be, even
if it feels like a weakness.
cocky, adj.;
You throw plates in the air, so sure I will catch them for you.
cocoon, n.: I
have to believe that if we spend enough time wrapped up in each other, we will
emerge together, more beautiful than before.
coda, n.:
“I can’t read your mind,” you say. So I write down my thoughts and
give them to you, watching your face as you read.
code, n.:
Perhaps the best thing about “I love you” is that it can’t mean
anything else.
codependency,
n.: How strange that society tells us we must pair off, then defines this word
as harmful.
coefficient,
n.: Yes, the books on your shelves acted as the reference I needed to know it
was right to be in your apartment.
coexist, v.:
This is our bare minimum, and sometimes it’s enough. To be in the same room,
and to feel there is room for us both.
coffee, n.: I
asked you why you drank it black, and you said, “Let’s not kid ourselves. It’s
the same thing as gasoline.”
cogent, adj.:
I spend so much time refining my arguments that I sometimes forget why I’m
making them, and then make them anyway.
cognition,
n.: If the College Board were creating an aptitude test for our relationship, I
would insist on an essay portion.
cognoscenti,
n.: Uta gives us a long history of the dance, and I love you when you say, “I
just want to watch it and decide for myself.”
cohabitation,
n: It’s the silly, tender way I see the two toothbrushes perched there looking
at each other, and think of them as us.
coincide, v.:
It is randomness, yes, but there is also our own self-made trajectories that
have made this wondrous crossing.
coke, n.:
Your Southern vowels and Southern consonants add bubbles and sweetness even
when you order a soda.
cold, adj.:
You leave the room right after sex, and I lie there and shiver, feeling used
and awful.
coleorhiza,
n.: We forget that roots are fragile at first, and need protection as they gain
their grip in the ground.
collaborate,
v.: Work with me, here.
collage, n.:
This is how my memory works, as I add images haphazardly, torn raggedly from
life and glued in, not quite straight.
collapse, v.:
At the end of the day, all that matters is that it is the end of the day, and
your job is to let me end it my way.
collarbone,
n.: When I hear that God is in the details, I think of the smoothness of your
collarbone, the desire I keep there.
collateral,
n.: You get the firsthand effects of all of my secondhand damage.
collection,
n: Assure me I won’t join the other shelved boyfriends, some that get taken
down from time to time, others that collect dust.
collide, v.:
The energy released in our crashing must be regained in the aftermath pause, in
the separation that only feels physical.
collocate,
v.: I want to be two words that are often paired. I want to have my own
meaning, but also have you always associated with me.
colloquial,
adj. “You’re wicked phat,” you say, and I tell you, “You’re totally da bomb.”
collusion,
n.: It’s when the right song plays at the wrong time, and I take it as a
message from the universe that the song will triumph.
cologne, n.:
I try it once and you recoil, telling me I have no need to pimp myself out to
someone’s attempt to bottle and sell masculinity
commitment,
n.: I will never raise this word, because it’s written on a red flag.
commodity,
n.: Time trumps all.
commotion,
n.: Part of it is resentment; I want to let loose and bend all the attention
towards me, but you always get there first.
commune, v.:
To feel enormity, and to know you have a place in it.
commute, n.:
The time when you are least alone, and most alone with your thoughts.
companion,
n.: A much better term than “lover” for what I want.
comparatively,
adv.: Seeing couples that don’t work, that are in the process of not lasting,
makes me feel better.
compartmentalize,
v.: I am a room in your home. Your family is in a storage locker in another
state.
compass, n.:
What does it mean that I look to you to know what’s fashionable, or what’s
endearing, but not what’s fair?
compassion,
n.: Then you’ll listen for hours as Kathryn chokes on her mistakes, and you
will carefully unwind the cord from around her neck.
compatible,
adj.: There is an alleged consistency in this word that does not actually exist
in real life.
compendium,
n.: The dictionary writer is supposed to be impartial, but the act of wanting
to define is in itself an expression of desire.
compensate,
v.: To brighten your charms because you fear that your weaker self will show
beneath.
competition,
v.: I only think it’s you against me when we are arguing about you and me.
complain, v.:
To tire of your own voice, even as you are using it.
complete, v.:
I wanted her to say, “You don’t complete me. I was meant to be incomplete.”
complex,
n./adj.: You say I have a complex, but I think it’s just that I find life to be
complex.
complication,
n.: I can deal with anything you throw me, as long as I’m not being played.
compliment,
n.: You don’t even have to be in the room to make me smile.
compose, v.:
To tame yourself into articulation.
compromise,
n.: A promise that you make together.
compute, v.:
The site said we had 78% compatibility; later you would tell me it’s the
farthest you’ve ever made it with a C+.
con, n.:
Romance is the realm of the trickster, and only sometimes do I feel like I’m in
on the joke.
concentrate,
v.: As I lose focus on the people I meet, the people I knew, you are still the
one I want to memorize.
conception,
n.: It’s not the first time we met, but the first time we each, individually,
decided to meet.
concern, n.:
When you are alarmed enough to say it plainly.
concerted,
adj.: I can see you assembling the orchestra of excuses, the soloist of regret,
ready to perform this latest effort of yours.
concession,
n.: I acknowledge my own fallibility, and that it’s not separate from who I am,
no matter how much I treat it like a third party
concise,
adj.: This is why “fuck you” always works, because it pierces through
the vagueness.
conclusion,
n.: The only conclusion I have come to is that nothing is ever over, not until
everything is forgotten.
concoct, v.:
Alcohol makes for a brutal love potion.
concordance,
n: We both want our lives to matter; I recognize that in you.
condensation,
n.: The intensity of you pressing against me, me pressing against you, brings
liquid from the air.
condescending,
adj.: You like to look down on me, but self-regard makes a very flimsy
pedestal.
conditioned,
adj.: I could never truly love someone who isn’t nice to waitresses.
condolence,
n.: Your loss is so deeply personal that the best I can do is offer a thin line
of color leading back to some light.
confection,
n.: I want a natural sweetness from you, mixed with the tart and the bitter,
more a cherry than a cake.
confess,v.:
You burden becomes my burden as well, and we have to find a path to be free of
it, if we can.
confidence,
n.: The taller you stand in your conviction, the clearer I see the deep
reflection of your doubt.
confiding,
adj.: Secrets are the currency of trust, and I have made you rich without
giving you everything I have.
confinement,
n.: Alone with myself, you find how many selves I contain.
confirmation,
n.: I like that I don’t have to sneeze for you to say “bless you.”
conflagration,
n.: The anger stage comes when I realize that if I’m going to burn, you’re
going to burn, too.
conflate, v.:
I vow that we will never be one of those couples where you can mistake one
person for the other.
confluence,
n.: I think of the twisted paths that rivers take before they meet each other.
conform, v.:
At first, I refused to live in Brooklyn.
confound, v.:
“It’s an eggcup,” you explained as I held it up, thinking some mouse
had left its cereal bowl in your cupboard.
confrontation,
n.: You turn away from the truth when asked to face it, while I stare at it too
long, until it becomes a blur.
confuse, v.:
In the dream, you ask me to pick love out of a police lineup, and when I do,
you say, “No, that’s the idea of love.”
congratulations,
n.: You have steered yourself to the end of the day without crashing.
congress, n.:
To think this was paired with ‘sexual’! If our sex ever feels like congress,
I’m voting you out, even if you’re the incumbent.
congruity,
n.: “Tit for tat,” you said, and I pointed out you were only
exchanging one meaningless, small phrase for another.
conjecture,
v.: “Once you’ve started,” you told me, “it’s hard to stop.” And I said, “If
your mother walked in the room, you’d stop.”
conjugate,
v.: I spend too much of my present trying to figure out what tense I am to you.
The only one I rule out is past perfect.
conjure, v.:
echo of cigarettes; the magazine left open by the side of the bed; your soap;
the dog-ear on the page of the book you lent me
connection,
n.: This word is not enough. It is a telephone line. A kite string. You can’t
sum up the force of gravity with a drop of water.
conniption,
n.: I need you to calm down and check your pockets before you say you’ve lost
anything.
connive, v.:
I may have known, that once, that I had a cold when I kissed you. I may have
thought a sick day with you would be nice.
connotation,
n.: I knew I was in for it when saying your name to someone else filled me with
such incantatory delight.
conscience,
n.: It’s not about how you sleep at night; it’s the days that should be harder
when you fail someone you love.
conscious,
adj.: I am right here. Right here.
consecrate,
v.: It’s not the bottle of wine that gives the night its blessing, but the
words that are uncorked and fill the air around us.
consecutive,
adj.: It didn’t take long for you to admit my apartment was nicer.
consequence,
n.: I cannot be the answer to all the damage in your past, only the
alternative.
conservative,
adj.: As governed by fear as by tradition.
considerate,
adj.: This is the first thing to consider, when considering who you want to be
with.
consistent,
adj.: A heartbeat speeds and slows and, like love, its value is not in it’s
clockwork steadiness but in its life-giving nature.
consolation,
n.: It should not feel like a prize.
conspicuous,
adj.: “I love you” is not meant to be an advertisement. Those who wear it too
loudly tend to mean it the least.
conspiracy,
n.: Sometimes our own chemistry gives us the weaker inclination; we need both
our strength to outwit the interior monologues.
constancy,
n.: Always be true to me by always being true with me. When I falter, lead me
from my doubts with a steady certainty.
constellation,
n.: Like the evershifting sky, your body yields surprises to me, tiny markers I
have never noticed, designs within designs.
construct,
v.: I know it should feel we’re building something together, but it never seems
that solid, more spiritual in its shapelessness.
construe, v.:
I must remind myself that you look at others because they’re interesting, not
because you’re interested, and that I do it too.
consumed,
adj.: At first, the days divided themselves between the ones when I saw you and
the ones when I knew I wouldn’t.
contact,
n./v.: We all have that touchpoint, the place we reach for without knowing it.
For you, it’s my wrist. For me, your shoulder.
contagious,
adj.: Starve a doubt, feed a hope.
contemplation,
n.: The mind is a wild writer, and needs the editing talents of the heart.
contempt, n.:
You only despise me when you’re drunk, but I have to wonder whether it’s a
layer added or a layer revealed from underneath.
contentment,
n.: There are moments when life feels like the undisturbed surface of a lake.
No wind. No oars. No tide. A beautiful stasis.
context, n.:
I have never been in love like this before. I never allowed myself to want it.
Because I never thought I would get here.
contingency,
n.: “Don’t move in with anyone,” Kathy said, “if you don’t have friends who
will take you in if things go wrong.”
continue, v.:
If life, there’s no such thing as a cliffhanger. You send me over the edge, and
there is immediately a moment after.
contour, n.:
It’s only when you’re in bed with someone that you realize how rarely you put
the sensation of touch to use.
contraband,
n.: I engraved the birthday flask with the phrase OBJECTS IN THE FUTURE ARE
CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR.
contradictory,
adj.: I didn’t know how to explain to you that I loved you so much that I
wanted to run away from it.
contrail, n.:
Like a child, looking for his house from the air – sometimes I am that far
away, but still looking at each roof to find you.
contrapositive,
adj.: If you are a liar, then you are also not right for me.
contrariwise,
adj.: “Yes, I