Another Way To Say "I Love You."

He thinks I'm crazy for reading.

I think he's crazy for loving me.

Tese are the things I know like the back of my hand:

The backs of your hands. The backs of your knees. The way your blue eyes can be spring-sky-welcoming one moment and ocean-deep, ocean-cold the next. The gentle pattern of droplets weaving through each other. The distortion of light through water. The subtle differences between sticky tears and dry eyes. You.

These are the things I am sure of:

Puddles will evaporate. Rocks will erode. The snow will melt. You can't take the yellow out of green and end up with blue again. Rain is just water. Tears are just water. My situation will improve when the temperature starts to rise.

These are the things I know by heart:

The rain chattering outside my window, tapping out the wishes of oceans on the glass. Cups dirty with chapsticky kisses and smeared fingerprints, mapping the routes of my wandering hands. Cool drafts of air which reassure me that the world outside my room is still breathing. Sunlight daring to reach its fingers through clouds to stroke my cheeks with its warmth. The slow, slow rebirth of summer after an agonizingly bloody winter.

These are the things that I know to be absolutely true:

only you.

Hey, I love you.

So, so much.