The light of my soul and the most arousing name to my senses. My boyfriend. How simple, yet average it seems to call you the other-half, a lover or simply the person I love. Considering how fragile, temporary this feeling is in its form, how easy to lose it might be, I’d rather not call you any of those. Frankly speaking, it’s not even enough.
You gotta admit. Our love is nothing you’ve ever tasted before, nothing you can compare it to. It’s not in the 456th time I say “I love you”, neither it is in the next date I’ll take you on a date or call you “mine”. It’s not countable, comparable. It’s in the way you exhale against my lips and shiver beneath my fingertips… when you lose a strength to hold back and speak. It’s in the ordinary routine that seems to be a mysterious discovery of shared experiences. It’s in the “stupid” and “dumb”, whispered “yes” and “no” and it keeps on coming back within a brush of lips, a pair of pink and thin tiers pressed against plump and soft ones. Love is when you can remain silent, when you can listen to the other’s heartbeat…. when you hold on tigher with your voice trembling. It’s when I can embrace you and feel you allowing me to.You make me forget my own name when I stare at you…. and lose my beliefs just to live my life staying by your side. And when there’s no one to hold you when you’re weak… when you curse in thoughts upon realizing you’re falling, when it hurts to breathe… I want to be there… with my hand stretched towards you, always ready to hold you.
I really regret not writing such lyrics myself before yet, those are probably the most adequate words I’d ever use to describe you. Let me finish this letter with them.
"I want to give you what you give to meand every breath that is in your lungsis a tiny little gift to me"
I want to be responsible for your happiness.