Sharing a correspondence:

From Me:

My tender bruised shoulders thank you again for your kindness and craft. (I carry enormous tention in my shoulders, which no one has ever been able to erradicate. PP ((Portland Perfection)) did make a little progress, though.)
My sleepy eyes appologize for keeping you up so late. (I left at 1:30 - too too late. We get lost in conversation. YES - conversation, I jest not.)
My tummy, taste buds, and sinuses are still grateful for the meal. (Sushi. He made me try some with wasabi - thus the sinuses being grateful.)
My skinny fingers and stubby toes appreciate your appreciation. (We talked about his former hangups about hands and toes, what he hates about his - and the kind he likes, which happen to be the kind I have.)
My tired wardrobe calls to excersize some items that have been on the hanger too long. (He likes wild and crazy clothes, which I have, but have not worn in a while...)
My heart is still aflutter with hope, exploration, adventure, and possibility. (It's true.)
I look forward to seeing you through and within the mirror. (In regards to his performace art piece he'll be doing this weekend. I helped him think through his idea.)
Thank You.

His Response:
You're welcome.
No need.
My pleasure.
I appreciate your appreciation of my appreciation.
Wardrobe demons out!
Ah, portentousness.
I look forward to feeling your feminine roar. (this, in regards to what my piece will be.)
No, thank you.