The Hyacinth Review
Now Reading
A Love Story
The Hyacinth Review
The Hyacinth Review

A Love Story

by
February 13, 2023
The Love Letter, Thomas Sully, 1834

Catie Zimmer (she/they) is a first year graduate student at…

Awe shines in his eyes as he watches the bumblebees float past. Did you know they can build an entire hive in just one month? His hand reaches for your wrist and you can't think of anything but the fact that this is the moment you know you’re in love. Dogwood branches creak overhead, but you don’t take your eyes off of him. My esoteric genius, I want to consume you whole, bones and all. Let me dig into your brain, forage for hummingbird mint and fear. He holds you at night, his even, gentle breaths tickle your neck as you lie awake, terrified he’ll disappear when he leaves your line of sight. You hope he dreams of a house. By the forest or sea, it isn’t important, just as long as he sees you there with him. Even fighting with him is joyous. He isn’t “tired, can we not?” and he has never made you feel small. Keys will get lost and knees will get bruised, but you will shield him when late notices arrive and the shower runs cold. Isn’t it great? he asks. Yes, you think. It may destroy us, but I will gladly tear apart, ligament by ligament, for him. He tells you he is not afraid of anything. Time is made of you, he says, every part of you, malevolent or saintly. The Babylonians were wrong—it’s you. He must be life itself, when poetry is written with each twitch of his brow, when grass grows around his feet. It’s quiet in the blood orange mornings. He watches the pigeons while you wait for the violent rapture. Something has to give. The atmosphere cannot contain the force of him. You can see it cracking already. Soon. You think there must be something wrong with the two of you, that nobody has ever felt like this without destruction, it’s not possible, but you’ll be in love until the earth crumbles around you anyway. You can't decide what part of him you like most. It varies with the moon. His left elbow, his ribs, his habit of cracking his knuckles. When will I ruin you? Before you leave for the studio, you make him coffee with a note attached to it, xoxo, your friend, lover, and devotee, just so you can imagine his shy smile. He says he doesn’t yet understand the physics of it all, but he feels like he didn’t exist before he met you. My love, zip your jacket before you leave. (He knows without even looking) Stay warm out there, for me.
Tags

Catie Zimmer (she/they) is a first year graduate student at Coastal Carolina University, studying for her Masters of Arts in Writing. She has published various poems and essays with her university’s arts publication, Archarios. Outside of school, Catie works as a bookseller and can be found ranting and raving about various obsessions to anyone who will listen.

©2023 The Hyacinth Review