Watching the red glowing sunset over the ocean landscape, the wind gently blowing through my hair, and the smell of seafoam filling my nose, I start to escape to my imagination. Throughout these last few months, I have come to know you. I’ve come to know your laugh, especially when you are cheeky enough to tease me, the annoying way only you know how. I’ve come to know your voice intrinsincally and the changes it goes through, from excitement to tension, from when you turn quiet from deep reflection to when it turns dark and hoarse from wanting me. I’ve come to know your mind, and how soft it is. I know you’re ambitious and focused, but that’s only part of the man I’ve come to love so. The tenderness you speak to me when I most need it, the way you admit your mistakes and reassure me when I doubt myself and you, I’ve come to know the greatness and depth of your heart to the point where it is for me undeniable that I adore you. What I don’t know feels simpler, but standing here at the edge of the world, feeling the ocean touch my feet in the sand, it itches onto my skin how much I crave it. The feeling of your hand, as it latches on to mine, making me feel safe, a feeling of home. The skin on your lips, and how they would gently move when I graze them with my own. The smell of your bare skin, when I bury my head in the crook of your neck, cuddling in the morning light, or your musky parfume lingering on a crisp shirt with the taste of alcohol on our lips. Your heartbeat, speeding up when I touch your chest or grasp the neck of your hair, or your breath close to my ear, when you tell me how much you need me close to you. There are so many sensations that I do not know, and all of these sensations yet seem to be my favorite things already. Most of all, your eyes. Though I do not know them yet, I know that your eyes, dark brown and glowing in both the flickering citylights and lowlit sunny beams of morning dawn will be my very reason for calm, nervous and breathless all at once.
