here is a small dried flower from a walk you went on, across the entire city, from midnight until dawn.
here is the catch in your throat when you hear her sing the songs she’s written, even when they’re not for you.
here is the list of places you made together, that you’ll one day visit, down to the minutae of hotel room prices and attractions you want to see.
here is the funny way she pronounces the word “crayon” and the way her eyebrows arch slightly when she’s applying lipstick.
here are his keys on your keychain, here are yours on his keychain.
here is the cup of coffee she makes you every morning, buying that gross fake creamer because she knows you secretly love it but would never admit it to your other friends.
here is the curl at his temple that simply refuses to join the rest of his hair.
here is the way she answers the phone, inflecting her ‘hello’ exactly the same way every single time.
here is the tip of his tongue, that sticks out the left side of his mouth when he’s working at his drafting table.
here is the tiny furrow in her brow, the shadow that crosses her eyes, when you make her angry in public.
here are the the truckloads of one-word exchanges that signify the important events in your life – the shorthand of your knowledge of each other.
here are the exhausting tears that come from fighting, and here is the unique kind of nauseating pain that surfaces at the thought of losing someone.
here is the moment you wake up, open your eyes, and see yourself reflected in someone else’s.
here, this is love. except, there is no perfect love. the future always looks rosier than it turns out to be, and the past leaves scars that defy the very definition of the word ‘past’. the present, that minute, is the only thing that can really live up to the expectation of perfect love. anyone who says they haven’t loved… hasn’t looked hard enough at the tiniest of movements, the simplest of actions, and found what they’re looking for.
there is no formula. no one is perfect. nothing stays the same. except your little batch of quirks, and words, and memories, and intimacies. so here. this is love. enjoy.

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