Your rapture is infectious, genuine, and unconditional. You are endearing in a way that is physically painful to me. I adore you like a wildfire. Your eyes have been shaped like a laugh since noon. Everything is viscid with the scent of your youth; sycamore, marjoram, tattered baseball gloves, and a whisper of burning wood. I’m a little in love with all of it. Summer digs its way into my veins. You dissolve into a splendid and fearless laugh. Its dripping with a sort of ferocious, tranquil charm. One of my hands is a promise, the other is a secret, and darling, they are identical; I have been missing you as long as I have known you.