I love the way you prance up the stairs in nothing but your boxers and socks. And the way your footsteps are so soft that I can barely hear them. Just hushed music in the quiet Sunday afternoon air. Like children when we dance.

I love the way your skin is so warm when you tangle yourself with me. Like there's a fire underneath every nerve. And the rhythm you drum on my legs under the blankets where no one can see. A secret song for only you and me.

I love the way we drive in your truck at night and find a secret place to park. Just so we can jump into the back and share kisses for awhile. And I love that the music never stops. It's always on low. And the moon beams down on us like a proud parent.

I love the way you fall asleep on me sometimes. Not even next to me or cuddled up to me. You've put your whole being on top of mine with your head turned on my chest. Within minutes you're asleep and I trace patterns in your hair to keep you there.

I love the way you gently breathe on my neck because you know that's my weakness. And when my mother calls and you distract me with your lips and the air. I stammer through the conversation, repeating things that don't matter. And I love the way you chuckle after every goosebump rises.  

I love the way you groan when I tell you I have to leave soon. And when I confess that I don't want to go and you whisper back, "Then don't." And the way you kiss me then, tangling your tongue with mine. They battle for the upper hand, and I love the way yours always wins.

I love the way you talk about the future like you've got it all written out in a storybook; pictures included. You know the color of your first sons' eyes and the way they'll shine in the moonlight during the tired nights. And I love the way you think you won't mind the sleepless weeks.

I love the way you shiver under my touch. And when I tease you tracing your trail to the very edge of your jeans you put your head back and watch me intently. And the way I hold the world in my hands for those few short moments. Like my next move decides your fate.

I love the way our hands have to bump three time before either of us have the courage to link together. And when we finally do you rub your thumb softly against mine. And I love the way our fingerprints line up and sew our skin together.

I love the way your name looks. On paper, on the screen of my phone especially at 2am. A two word poem. And the way it feels when it rolls off my tongue catching every emotion on the way out. Then it lands softly in the air and melts there. Too sweet to stay solid.

I love the way your scent follows me. And it clings to my sheets and all my clothes. And sometimes even when I know you're nowhere near a wave of it will hit me and crawl up my skin and fill my every pore.

I love the way you're so unashamed of your fear of scary movies. And you'll paint yourself to me and jump at all the right places. And when I look at you you're peeking out from under the blanket or hiding behind your hand, the one that isn't laced with mine.

I love the way we whisper in the dark. In between pressed lips you confide in me. Well I love the pale freckles on your arms that are only possible with porcelain skin and the shortened breath through your not-too-big teeth when I steal a kiss. And your hair never does what you want it to because my hands are always through it.

Forgive me. I love all and every which way.