Love love :) - by Nnvmdii

‎ My love,‎‎I don't think I have ever wanted love in the way people usually describe it.‎‎I don't dream much about grand gestures. I think I would forget the flowers eventually.‎‎What I imagine instead is your face across the table on a day when neither of us has much to give.‎‎The kind of day that arrives already tired.‎‎You are irritated. I am distant. Something small becomes an argument because sometimes two exhausted people can turn a teaspoon into a war.‎‎And still, somewhere underneath the silence, there is the knowledge that neither of us is packing a bag.‎‎Maybe that is what I want from love.‎‎Not the absence of bad days, but the absence of that terrible feeling that one bad day could make everything disappear.‎‎I want us to have somewhere to put our anger.‎‎Somewhere safe enough to say, you hurt me, without secretly meaning leave me.‎‎I want apologies that don't sound rehearsed.‎‎I want us to learn each other's difficult languages.‎‎To know when “I'm fine” means give me five minutes, and when it means sit beside me because I don't know how to ask for comfort.‎‎I want to discover that loving someone is sometimes less about knowing what to say and more about refusing to make their worst day lonelier.‎‎And then there will be the good days.‎‎God, I hope there are so many of them.‎‎Not necessarily the spectacular ones.‎‎I mean the kind that would look completely insignificant to anyone else.‎‎You stealing food from my plate after insisting you weren't hungry.‎‎Me pretending to be annoyed even though I secretly like that you always do it.‎‎Getting dressed beside each other.‎‎Arguing over what to watch.‎‎Walking somewhere without needing a reason.‎‎Your laughter coming from another room.‎‎My name sounding different when it comes from you.‎‎A song playing in the car while neither of us speaks because the silence has stopped needing an explanation.‎‎I want to know what it feels like for happiness to become domestic.‎‎To stop being an event and become an atmosphere.‎‎To have a person whose presence quietly improves a room.‎‎I want to love you when you are beautiful, obviously, because I am still a man and apparently humanity has not evolved beyond having eyes.‎‎But I want to love you when you are tired and your hair is a mess.‎‎When you are impatient.‎‎When you have nothing interesting to say.‎‎When you are wrong.‎‎When I am wrong.‎‎When we have spent too much money.‎‎When the week has been cruel.‎‎When the future feels uncertain.‎‎When neither of us knows what we are doing.‎‎I want the privilege of seeing you become every version of yourself.‎‎The confident one.‎‎The frightened one.‎‎The ambitious one.‎‎The ridiculous one.‎‎The woman who knows exactly what she wants.‎‎The woman who sometimes has no idea.‎‎And I want you to have the same freedom with me.‎‎To know me beyond the parts that are easy to love.‎‎Because I don't want to be loved only when I am lovable.‎‎I want to be known deeply enough that love has had to become something more intelligent than attraction.‎‎Something patient.‎‎Something with memory.‎‎Something that remembers who we were when we first met and still makes room for who we become.‎‎Perhaps that is what I have been yearning for all this time.‎‎Not someone who makes every day beautiful.‎‎That would be exhausting, and frankly, suspicious.‎‎I want someone who makes the bad days bearable because I don't have to carry them alone.‎‎Someone who makes the good days feel fuller because there is another person there to witness them.‎‎Someone to whom I can say, look at this, when the sunset is beautiful.‎‎Someone I can hold when the sunset isn't.‎‎I want to build a life where love isn't something we keep announcing.‎‎It is simply there.‎‎In the second cup beside mine.‎‎In your clothes mixed with mine.‎‎In the familiar voice asking whether I have eaten.‎‎In the hand reaching for mine beneath the table.‎‎In the argument that ends with two people still sitting in the same room.‎‎In the laughter that interrupts a serious conversation.‎‎In the quiet after midnight.‎‎In all the little evidence that, somehow, out of everyone in this enormous and ridiculous world, we found each other and decided to stay.‎‎And if one day someone asks me what loving you was like, I don't think I will know how to give them a proper answer.‎‎I will probably remember fragments.‎‎Your laugh.‎‎Your perfume on my shirt.‎‎Your head against my shoulder.‎‎ Thousand kisses from you on my face ‎‎The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn't looking.‎‎A rainy evening.<h2 style="text-align: center;">‎</h2>‎A stupid argument.‎‎A long drive.‎‎Your hand finding mine.‎‎The sound of you saying my name from another room.‎‎And maybe that what i yearn for.‎

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