I’ll read you poetry, even if you don’t want to listen. I’ll bring you flowers, even when you say you don’t want them. I’ll collect all the pieces you dropped on your way from the front door to the bedroom, even though you told me to leave them where they were. I will bring you tea in bed, and extra blankets on soft Winter nights when snow gently covers foggy streetlights. I will love you on days when the Sun is too lazy to show its face and I will love you on days when you are too weak to show yours too. I will love you on days when your ears are ringing and your fingers are numb. I will love you on days that start with the letter “M”, or “T” or “W” or “F” or “S” or any other letter that has or will ever exist, and I will love you on days even when you feel I shouldn’t be able to. I will fill your cracks with grace and stitch your wounds with everything that I have left. Please trust me, I promise my hands will be steady, even though they shake when you reach for them.