I like sleeping in.
I like the way the light hangs in the room through the curtains. Nice and dim.
I like the grey-blue light of the early morning.
And looking to the left side of the bed and seeing his limbs sprawled in different directions. Some limbs tangled in mine, others strewn off the edge of the bed.
I like the way his eyes are squinted shut and he can still see me.
Or the way he takes a million showers a day even though he doesn’t need to. It must be the Pisces in him.
I like waking up in the morning with an afro because he’s played with my hair while I was asleep.
And going downstairs and seeing where he got up after I’ve fallen asleep because he wasn’t tired but still wanted to lay with me until I’ve drifted off.
He reads my thoughts and knows my looks. He knows me better than myself.
He calms my nerves and squashes my rage. He causes my rage.
I like the way his skin looks against mine and mine against his. And how they’re different colors yet we can’t tell where one’s skin ends and the others’ begins.
I like how he wakes up with disheveled hair, puts on lounge pants with one leg tucked into a sock, and a backwards shirt that’s also inside out….and he still looks fine as hell.
I like how he is a better cook than I am.
And more patient as well.
And loves me for me.
He laughs at my insecurities because, to him, I’m perfect as I am.
He’s my rock.
He doesn’t remember 98% of our graduating class from high school and that still amuses me.
I love how he can’t spell for anything but he’s really smarter than I am.
I love how he keeps me on my toes.
I love how, somewhere along the way, everything that I liked about him turned into all the things that I love about him.
I love how he thinks he’s hilarious when he’s really corny and not funny at all.
Addendum: He’s funny sometimes.
I love how he locks the door at night and reminds me to be safe because I would never think about those things if it weren’t for him.
I love how he cares about my best friends as if they were his sisters just because they’re important to me.
I love how he’s gentle and goofy but could win a fight if he needed to.
His support and enthusiasm means more to me than he knows.
I love how he asked me to make a string bracelet for him so that he’d have it with him at all times.
I love how he’s so much taller than me and I can hide in his arms when the world gets too harsh.
His eyes are the kindest I’ve known.
So is his smile.
He makes me laugh for hours and hours.
And puts up with me when I’m moody.
I love how he thinks I’m at my prettiest when I think I’m at my most busted.
I love how he gives me advice and infinite wisdom whether I’ve asked for it or not.
And that his advice is usually right. And by usually I mean 99% of the time it is.
I love how he gets away with everything. Just because it fascinates me.
I love how he’s fascinating as a person.
I love how he plays the guitar and writes stories. And makes movies with a critical eye.
I love how he lets me decide what to watch on TV even if he controls the remote.
I love how he has certain rituals for getting a good nights sleep such as lighting incense and making the room pitch black.
I love how I could go on and on. And I probably will at another point in time.
Love you. Always.
“you might be the greatest, thing I’ve ever seen….everyday is Saturday night, but I can’t wait for Sunday Morning…”