All the times you roll over in the middle of the night and whisper the sweetest words I'll ever listen to.
The waking-up smirks, yawns, and hand-holding.
The scent of your plaid shirts draped over my shoulders on all the walks back from the ice cream parlour.
Each beer can that was tossed away, and clammered onto the kitchen floor.
I have bad aim.
The growing pile of shared space and objects and gifts, exchanged for no reason at all, other than our love, also shared.
The time I fell asleep with my finger in between your lips, comforted by the closeness that one finger had with your heart.
The hours spent driving to and from and circling seemingly endless parking lots.
The cigarettes shared, second-hand while holding hands.
The second glances,
"what" "what?"
"nothing, I just love you so much."