This is home for now. It’s definitely quaint but definitely anointed.
This is my actual house. It’s name is Boonepidge.
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thekitchenknight asked: Tumblr wouldn't show me the little notification so I can welcome you properly, but -- thanks for following! I'm sort of fangirling over here because your writing is so incredibly beautiful and just yeah. Thank you. :D
Aw that’s awesome. I really appreciate you saying that. And no, thank you for following me. Reblogging my post and supporting me by following is an honor for me.
“I was driving in a car with a woman that I believed to be the most beautiful woman in the world when she asked me who I believed to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Cold sweat dripped down my neck so I rolled down my window as she began to rattle off names.
” Is it Karen?” No.
“Taylor?” No.
“Ally?” No.
“Then who?”
It was then that I told the most beautiful woman in the world the only three words I could muster.
“I. DON’T. KNOW.”
And I know she says I apologize too much, but this is just me saying sorry for all the words I know I should have said.
Like, “I know you hate your hair most days, but even when it’s a mess, it’s my absolute favorite kind of mess. You can’t do wrong. It falls in perfect pieces, perfectly in place, disheveled in the most beautiful ways. It frames a perfect face and in windstorms and hurricanes, it’s the evidence of your poise and grace.”
I should’ve told you, “Some people have a way with words but you have a way with your eyes. They tell of worlds to be explored and make me want to fly. I wish for nothing more than to be your favorite book so I could feel those eyes dancing on my skin, day in, day out, and time and time again.”
Or, “Your lips are worthy of legends. Your laughter is my favorite song and I know every lyric by heart. When you smile, the world slows its orbit, hoping desperately to catch your next move. When you sing, God smiles and hums the tune. Angels dance to your every note. The most pleasing music I know comes from your throat.”
I should’ve said, “You are a masterpiece. A perfectly crafted poem. Your body makes its own rules. It’s dangerous enough to start a war yet graceful enough to send every army back home. The oceans swallow themselves whole in your wake. There’s endless power in the way your hips sway.”
I should’ve touched your hands and said, “Even these speak to my soul. They whisper stories of being found. Tales of being home. Every time you touch me, it is the warmest moment that my heart knows. You were created in God’s image and God created in you a fellow creator. Your beauty hits so hard it leaves me shell-shocked.”
I wish I could have told you that down to every last inch of your being, there is nothing on this earth that can compete. Even your fingers. The blood in your veins. Your ears. Your elbows and your knees and your tiny little toes on your slightly chubby feet. They have the power to captivate.
I should have just said, “You have me.”
Or, “If I ever saw someone more gorgeous, I’d most certainly go blind.”
What I meant to say was, “As far as I know, your heart is the source of all beauty.”
But I can’t say any of those things. So one last time, I’m sorry. And these are the only three words I can muster.
“I. LOVE. YOU.”
Please, let that be enough.”
— An apology letter to the most beautiful woman in the world. || Devon Halvorson (via devonhalvorsonpoetry)
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