Love Is
Love is the inability to wipe the smile off of my face as the number of hours until your arrival diminishes to minutes. Love is running up to you and smashing my face into your chest, taking that first big deep breath of your scent. Love is the toes of our shoes touching through dinner and soft touches on arms, marveling that you are flesh again. Love is the warmth of your person and kisses on your lips after dozens of kisses blown off my fingers towards you from far away. Love is getting coffee in the morning and pretending we are normal, thinking about how every Saturday could start like this. Love is showing you my new spaces, the places that I have learned. Love is blowing straw wrappers at each other over lunch and memorizing every inch of your face in the process. Love is holding hands in a museum that we wander for hours, happy to be there together. Love is accidentally napping because I heard the sound of your heart tapping with a warm blanket over us and basketball playin...