lørdag 7. januar 2012


I love the sound of your smile. I love the warmth of your touch. I love the sound of your indifferent tone, when you try your best to sound interested.

I love the whole mass of your body, a safe harbor for my emotions and outrages. I love the way you comfort my irrational feelings, I love the way you laugh away my mistakes and give me room to grow and learn.

I love your persistent being. I love the way you stand by me, even when I lose my way, and I hurt and disappoint you. I love to see you grow and mature. I feel this unexplainable pride when I take you places, or you take me places. Even if it’s just a trip to the food store. This is my man, my proud smile says, this is the future father of my children.

I love the way we talk about eternity in one moment, then suddenly roll around. Laughing. Dancing. Crying. Tears of happiness. I love your silly, silly ways to make me laugh. My most childish laughter you lure out of me. One foot behind the neck, your silly smile proudly presents. The wilderness of your curls makes me think of waves in the ocean, in the ocean we once swam in. The waves we let crush against us, screaming in ecstasy. We really did get high on travel, and drunk on alcohol. And we will again, my love.

In my future, I see you, you and your curls and your smile. And that calms me, makes me think that everything will be fine. I will be content, no matter what.

You might think I’m your savior, that you need me. But we need each other. I swore not to depend again on another man, but I failed. I failed successfully. I am not ashamed to declare that I do depend on you. And it’s ok. It’s ok, because you filled something in me, something I didn’t knew was a void. You are my rock, you are my cliff, and you are the ocean that crushes on my cliffs. You tear me down, and you build me up, you make me disappointed, and you back me up. You embarrass me, and you make me proud. You shock me, and you’re predictable to the bone.  Your completeness is just a proof that our Maker had a real fun time making you, my love. He composed you with a little bit of everything, a sweet mixture of all that’s human. Your crooked toes, your hairy legs, your big nose.

Your imperfectness is perfect. 

Ingen kommentarer:

Legg inn en kommentar