Intimacy, Love

A thousand ways of I love you

I fall in love with you a thousand ways every single day. I love the way your eyes sparkle with mischief, and I love the way they soften with tenderness when they look at me. I love your strong arms at night when they hold me to sleep. I love the calm and determined way you tell me, “I’m here, I’m always here” when tears are pouring down my face. I love how you silence my roaring thoughts. I love the way you treat your mama, it gives me a glimpse of how you will treat me when the years finally show on my face. I love your presence, your simple quiet presence. I love how you see good in everything, in everything and in me. I love the way you fall asleep, bundled up, your chest, rising, falling – so peaceful and perfect and unaware. I love your broad shoulders, how they never seem to carry the weight of the world (they make me believe I could be as weightless too). I love when you’re tired and grumpy, I love when you’re fresh out the shower, hair puffy and in the most endearing mess. I love the tender side you don’t show to anyone else but me. I love the way your eyes crinkle at the sides when you laugh at something silly I did. I’m always silly when I’m with you – you do that to me. You make me the lightest, happiest version of myself.

And that’s what love is isn’t it? You taught me love is simple and pure. It is happy and kind. It is days of laughter, and it is days of the mundane, my hands always intertwined with yours. It breathes life back into the darkest corners of the broken human heart. Aren’t you happy that we found it? That we found us? I’m so happy.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll say it to you a thousand times over until my words become your reality, just as yours have become mine.

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Intimacy, Love, Poetry, Words

you are the dream of my aching heart come true.

you lay in hazy golden sunlight

– so tender and sweet as you sleep.

(i once dreamed of a moment like this.)

at the sight of you,

my soft and withered heart heals.

// written this morning before he stirred awake.

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