You

It's in a brush of fingertips, the way sunlight plays in your hair, the adorably frustrated look you get when caught in a sudden downpour. It's your laugh, the taste of your cooking attempts, the curses you mutter when the dog has chewed another shoe.



You look so good in Sunday dress, but, baby, you look even better in your favorite pair of worn-out jeans.



I like the chances to hug you close, to feel your heartbeat against mine, to simply rest in your embrace.



...I can't help myself.



I love the grumpy face you make when the dog needs out at 3am -it's your turn, after all. More than that, I love having you slip back into bed beside me to hold me all night. I love your lips on my neck, your hand on my waist, whispered promises in my ear.



There’s a sparkle in your eyes when you’ve had one too many drinks, and a certain quirk to your lips when you’ve said something particularly snarky.



I enjoy our conversations about nothing... because they’re with you. My favorites are these nights we stay up late, talking over drinks.



I tell you my bad jokes, because I live to see you smile.



…I can’t help myself when it comes to you.



But do you know what I love the most?



You singing off-tune to Billy Idol’s "Rebel Yell" when you do the dishes. Your messy, wind-swept hair when we drive with the windows rolled down. That absently-thoughtful look you get when you’re ordering food. How serious you become hours-deep in your favorite novel. When you steal the covers, giving me the perfect excuse to cuddle closer. Your taste in scented candles. When we go to Starbucks and you order tea. Your insistence on seeing the latest children’s movie. When you dance, and you think I’m not watching. The way you can’t just have one brownie… you have to have three.



The feeling of security just because you're around.



Is it wrong that I want you to frown? If only so I have an excuse to kiss it away?



…I can’t help it, I’ve got no self-control. There’s nothing else I can do...



But love you.