Sarah and Holly

Kiss me hard before you go…



Things Sarah has written


I wrote this August 28, 2013. Before Holly and I got together. In that weird gray period between careful friends and…more. My love for fairy tales and those of star-crossed lovers was laying heavy on my heart. For some reason, Holly has always conjured up fire imagery for me. Maybe it’s the red hair.In my phone, Holly is listed as “Kissed by Fire.”

So I think the fire metaphor along with a seemingly unattainable love probably inspired my to compare her to the fiery fairy that teases travelers with it’s elusive light.

“The Ellylldan is a species of elf exactly corresponding to the English Will-o’-wisp, the Scandinavian Lyktgubhe, and the Breton Sand Yan y Tad. The Welsh word dan means fire; dan also means a lure; the compound word suggests a luring elf-fire.”  British Goblins: Welsh Folk-lore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions. Chapter II.IV (page 19).

“Time marches on across my tiny little world which still swirls slightly around Holly. But each day I get a little bit more of myself back. I can at least be human now. I can shut down the sadness and insecurity so much better than 3 weeks ago. Much better perspective. It’s still hard when your whole being is telling you to go there-to dwell on impossibilities, to live in fantasies-but that world doesn’t exist. It’s pretend and the reality would never live up to the dream. But I’m a dreamer! It’s my natural state to live in impossibilities to feed on them and wish on invisible stars.

So I clench my teeth and pull my head back to reality- where I have a friend with a beautiful soul but who lives on the other side of a wall from me. I can only watch as she dances for me. She can hear me speak, but always a few inches away.
So I watch the Ellylldan dance just out of reach, and I follow. You can’t help it, right? The Ellylldan is mysterious, fascinating and seems so very close, but always out of reach.
The thing is that I know anything with Holly would be fire…gunpowder. I’d lose a finger trying to hold onto her. And I don’t know if I have the courage to go down that road, trusting her. I’m not strong right now.I need to be handled gently and being with her, I’m afraid, would break me into a million pieces.
So I’m the friend. Trying to shut off those feelings. Trying to feel something for my friend’s friend. Trying to figure something out in me. Who I am. What I am.
To be full of fearless love. And not lose myself in the marshes as I chase after phantoms.”
Hanjun Ni – “Will o’ the Wisp”


If I could wrap up my thoughts and feelings in a single word, I wouldn’t. Some things are better expressed in smiles and silent moments, in miles of love notes and 3 word text messages. Why would I distill my love into a matter of syllables when I want to take a lifetime of sighs and whispered midnight conversations to tell you exactly what “I love you” means to me?

It will take a million precious moments, tearful apologies, bad jokes, embarrassing admissions, lifelong promises, and poorly worded attempts for me to tell you I love you, Holly Michelle, and I wouldn’t dare miss a single one.



I need your moody frowns as much as your smiley eyes.

I need your tears as much as your laughter.

I need your mistakes and your flaws and your darkness.

Because it’s you. Part of your being. Part of your beautiful, enigmatic soul and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Every shade of you colors my world in a kaleidoscope of light and shade.

It is vivid and permanent and intoxicating.



My love is a seed flying from your fingers as they brush across my face. Little saplings take root in my mind, heart and deep inside my belly. Twisting toward the sun, branches slide through my insides and along my skin, reshaping my body as they grow. Bruises bloom on my throat and thighs, aching in a sweet reminder of the planting

My love is cultivated, tended and kept by skillful hands; hands that cradle the bright green buds, those frail pods carrying both hope and fear. With tenderness, you bring to life and with cold efficiency uproot and thin the rows. Like the changing seasons, your hands bring life and death in turn.

My love shivers with the breeze, it’s adolescent frame yielding to the changes in the weather. I prop myself against you, climbing you like a vine, encircling your ribs, drawing strength from your arms. I vibrate in your hands as you teach me to stand, blooming red as you

My love drops it’s fruit onto your lips, bursting with the sweetness of patient care and tang of rough-won maturity. Standing proudly, my arms yield fiery blossoms for the harvest. Seed, bud, branch, and vine all paying homage to the faithfulness of the farmer.

My love runs in your veins, it sings in your ears, slides doen your throat like new wine. Do you see me standing before you? Young, yes, young and shaky yet, but bursting with new life. The seed you planted no longer your own.

My love, you see, it grows.


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