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    i. Last winter you held me under the light of your favorite constellation; our entwined "I Do's" floated up to become diamonds lodged in the sky. Every morning I woke to a warm cup of Earl Grey and a passionate kiss on the counter top, hoping the marred wood wouldn't give way beneath me. I even let you look over my shoulder as I poured my soul onto a piece of paper, handwritten memories tinged with sepia and wanderlust.     ii. A whirlwind of postcards and newspaper clippings. That's what you called me.     iii. Our walls were painted with verses of my favorite poets. From Eliot's wasteland to the simple, beautiful lines from the