I am THAT GIRL that you see stopped at red lights, jamming out to the radio like a crazy person, singing to you.
Sunshine breaking through
the icy chill of winter.
What more do I need?
The source of my smile.
May tum say pyar kerti hoon.
I love you. Promise.
Giving you goosebumps
with fewer and fewer words.
V1) Early morning/ looking out the window/ rain is pouring/ and all I hear is the sound/ of water pitter-pattering down/ and all I can feel/ is your arm reaching out to pull me back in/ and keep me warm for right now/ how did I get so la-la-lucky?/
Chorus) He treats me like a princess/ and he thinks that I am the best/ I don’t know what- I did to- deserve him, but I’m so blessed/ yes, no matter how hard I try/ there’s no way that I could deny/ he’s the one who- will be there- forever standing right by my side/ and I la-la-la-la-love you/ ‘cause you la-la-la-love me, too/
V2) Every evening/ I fall asleep next to your faded sweatshirt/ ‘cause I can smell your cologne/ can’t handle being alone/ but, all I can see/ when I close my eyes in every dream/ is us together again/ when did I get so la-la-lucky?/
V3) Distance makes the heart grow fonder/ or so they say/ that doesn’t make it any easier/ being 4000 miles away/ even though it hurts my hurt to be here without you/ it comforts me to know that you la-la-la-love me, too/
© Copyright Jaclyn Marie Reinhart
Melody and Lyrics by Jaclyn Reinhart, March 18, 2014
I’m in a very precious situation at the moment. I’m dating a boy from a different culture who lives in a different country and grew up with a different language. He speaks English fluently, but sometimes he struggles, just a little bit, just ever-so-cutely. He says things like, “It doesn’t bothers me” and “It doesn’t really matters” instead of “It doesn’t bother me” or “It doesn’t really matter.” And I think it’s absolutely adorable. But, also, it’s an interesting challenge, sometimes. Today, I was telling him that one of my new life goals is to publish a book of haiku. He didn’t know what a haiku was, so I explained, “It’s a type of poetry, three lines, where the first line has five syllables, the second had 7 syllables, and the third has 5 syllables.” He says in response, “Sorry, what’s a syllable?”
I don’t remember learning what a syllable is. I remember clapping out syllables in first grade. I remember learning about what they are technically last semester in linguistics. But, how do you explain to a grown man whose second language is English what exactly a syllable is?
I think it’s a beautiful challenge. Part of the reason I love this relationship so much is because we are constantly learning things from one another. He teaches me about Islam, and Urdu, and economics, and his business. I teach him about Christianity, and how to phrase his English just right, and politics, and ASL. It’s a really cool kind of symbiosis we’ve got going on. And it’s the coolest thing I could ask for.
This is karma for
those nine degree days where you
didn’t keep me warm.
Freezing to the bone;
your body could keep me warm.
"If only," I pray.
I am weirdly good
at going back to “just friends.”