In 20 years, when my daughter asks me who my first love was, I’ll think of you. I will think of nights spent talking until the sun came up. I will think of the way your smile lit up my heart. I will think of the lessons you taught me, both before and after your broke my heart. And I will look down at my daughter and tell her your name, I’ll tell her how much I loved you, how dangerous it is to love somebody that much, how I had to learn to put myself back together again once you left. But I’ll also tell her that none of it matters as much as it did then, I’ll tell her that it doesn’t hurt the way it used to, I’ll tell her that it’s important to put your heart on the line even if it means breaking it somewhere along the way. And I’ll tell her that you taught me one of the most important lessons you can ever learn: that you deserve someone who knows how to love you.

I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.