hola

Aren’t we all waiting to be read by someone, praying that they’ll tell us that we make sense?

Darling, I’m not good with dates. I’ll forget how long we’ve been together or what year you were born. I won’t remember the day you told me you loved me or what you wore the night we first danced. But what I will remember—what I do remember, is the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile or how your laughter has the subtlest of rasps when you find something quite humorous. I’ll remember the way you whistle when silence becomes too prominent. And the way you run your fingers through your beard when you drive. I’ll remember the way you look at me before we kiss. So I’m sorry I can’t remember your birthday. I’m just always trying to imprint every aspect of you into memory.

You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known- and even that is an understatement.

Oh, darling, you will be good to me, won’t you? Because we’re going to have a strange life.

I taste the good and bad in you and want them both.