He’s left me.

To help youngsters retreat from the modern world and assist their adolescent pursuit for spirituality. Twice an academic semester, Adonis leaves me. Sometimes I roll around happy for all the extra space in bed, others I collapse on the living room carpet wondering why I must be partnered with such a Soul. He leaves for four days and returns to me tired, with red cracked eyes and weary shoulders and a scruffy unshaven face.

I leave love notes in his wallet where he’ll find them the next day. My latest poem was this:

I love you.
Not the way everyone says and
not the way everyone thinks.
I love you
in the way most people dream about,
the way G*d intended. -lf-b

My Adonis, for whom Aphrodite and Persephone fought, hurry home to me.