I know I say I love you a lot.
But I always mean it a different way whenever I say it.
Sometimes I love you like the morning. Like a sunrise. And that's why I can love you morning after morning after morning. You'd think I'd get tired of the same sunrise over and over again. But every sunrise is different. The world is always moving and shifting, and after a month or two the differences become more noticeable. It's something I'm learning to be more sensitive to.
Sometimes I love you like the heat of noon. Sometimes like its scorching heat, and sometimes like its sleepy heat. Yeah, I don't always love you like the majestic morning. Sometimes I just love you, like such a random time of day. Maybe I remember something you said. Or maybe I get a text from you when you go grab a midnight snack. "Little things," you might think, "...far too little for love." But little things pepper our love with nuance. I love you in plenty of simple ways, ficworm. But subtly different each time, I promise.
I love you like the evening too, sometimes. Sometimes I love you to fall asleep, because my imperfections won't let me. Sometimes I love you like I'm afraid to lose you in all the darkness. But other times... I love you, like the sweet dreams to a good night. Sometimes I love you like my favorite meteor shower. You might expect meteor showers to be rare, but they happen more often than you think. That might surprise you if you're imagining meteors falling like some dramatic rain of light against the night sky. But no. It's subtler than that. Each meteor is hard to spot, so each one makes me feel so lucky. And it feels like a miracle when two fall at the same time. So even after seeing my favorite meteor shower once, twice, thrice? I wouldn't mind watching it again. Because you see... it's never the same shooting stars. It can't possibly be.
// TL;DR: I always love with nuance.
Postscript:
I remember seeing a tweet. It goes,
...the beauty of love is found in its abundance.
My favorite meteor shower peaks again later tonight. I always did find it amazing that the meteors never seem to run out. There's a trail of debris—bits and pieces left behind by... something. And we encounter those remnants every now and then.
I don't think the debris will run out anytime soon.
I don't think I want it to.
I hope one day your skies clear up enough to see the shooting stars too.
I love you, ficworm.
Addendum:
And when all of the stars burn out and die and when all that remains is the vacuum of space with its silence that can't, by sound, be broken, I'll say it all the same wherever I lie I'll accept if I don't get to say it to your face Only so long as my truth is spoken
