Bedside Lamp Light and Conversation
2 AM
I have decided that there is no more perfect experience than laying in bed with someone you care about with just enough light illuminating their face so you can see all of the beautiful things you love about them. What's even better is telling them what you love so much. I was so in awe of you that I couldn't begin to tell you all of the things I love as I traced over your face at 2 AM.
You hate the bump in your nose that you got from breaking it when you were a kid, but I love it because it produced a story that you got to tell me that night as I laid in your arms. I love the freckles on your cheek, neck, and stomach because I love to count them all. I love your facial hair and the way your lips twitch as I move my fingers over your mustache because the hair tickles you. I love the way those hazel eyes watched me as I stared at you in amazement; a flame in the dark. I love the way your breathing hitched in your throat as my read finger tips grazed over your adam's apple lightly.
I love the callouses on your hands because they show how hard working of a man you are. I love how when I went to compare your hand size to my much smaller one, you twisted my fingers with yours as I went to pull away. I love all the stories you tell me about this scar and that one, and how you talk about your family and your hopes and your dreams, and how you tell me stories about the past that make you stare off into the distance and grin.
Most of all, I love how you inspire me endlessly and when I struggle to come up with something to write about, I can spend one night with you and have a plethora of beautifully imperfect things to write about. You are my muse, my inspiration, and the only human capable of making my heart want to explode when you do something as simple as tense under my finger tips. I guess with all of these small things that I love, because they make you up, I can say I love you.
You hate the bump in your nose that you got from breaking it when you were a kid, but I love it because it produced a story that you got to tell me that night as I laid in your arms. I love the freckles on your cheek, neck, and stomach because I love to count them all. I love your facial hair and the way your lips twitch as I move my fingers over your mustache because the hair tickles you. I love the way those hazel eyes watched me as I stared at you in amazement; a flame in the dark. I love the way your breathing hitched in your throat as my read finger tips grazed over your adam's apple lightly.
I love the callouses on your hands because they show how hard working of a man you are. I love how when I went to compare your hand size to my much smaller one, you twisted my fingers with yours as I went to pull away. I love all the stories you tell me about this scar and that one, and how you talk about your family and your hopes and your dreams, and how you tell me stories about the past that make you stare off into the distance and grin.
Most of all, I love how you inspire me endlessly and when I struggle to come up with something to write about, I can spend one night with you and have a plethora of beautifully imperfect things to write about. You are my muse, my inspiration, and the only human capable of making my heart want to explode when you do something as simple as tense under my finger tips. I guess with all of these small things that I love, because they make you up, I can say I love you.