I love you. More than anything. More than I’ve ever loved anything.
The week we spent together was amazing. I loved watching you downtown, the white snow flurries in your dark hair, your breath in the air as you laughed, framed by those old buildings, the river in the background. I wish I’d taken photos. Sometimes I forget that while I can capture an image in my mind, hold it there, I’ll wish I had a copy to show you. To show you how beautiful you are. That image will be with me, always.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of my shortcomings.
Sometimes I pride myself on my communication skills and sometimes I wonder if I’m speaking the same language as others. Sometimes I’m trying so hard to explain to you how I feel, how big it is, and I can’t. My words get tangled, falling from my lips faster and faster while I’m trying to reason, trying to tell you.
There are things I don’t want to say. I worry that they would alter the course that we are on. There are things I can’t explain to you, I just hope you understand when I grip you tightly and sob into your neck.
I have to hope that you understand what I mean when I say that I love you, that you are my everything, that you are my happily ever after. I have to hope that you know that I would do anything for you. That I need you. That I want you. That I choose you.
I have to hope that you understand how important your happiness, your contentment, your struggles and desires are to me.
I have to hope you know that I’m not afraid of anything with you. That I want to share your hopes and dreams, your trials and tribulations, your debts, your family, everything with you. Your good ideas, your not so good ideas, your terrible ideas. I want to make beautiful mistakes with you.
I want to make love to you. I want you to make love to me. I just want to be with you.
I hope you know all of these things, even when I can’t say them.