May 06 2009
Untitled for now.
I really love being alone in your apartment.
Not as much as I love being with you in your apartment,
but you have to trust me that it’s really nice.
I like wearing your sweat pants, almost as much as I like the way you fix my eyes with a tissue after I’ve been crying into it for the last half an hour.
It’s taken me a long time to feel like I could put out something intimate, and even longer to feel like I could write something absolutely exultant in the way I feel towards you.
Even if you don’t read this, it’s important for me to just say, I am trying my hardest to be happy with you. It seems really silly I think that a person would have to work so hard to keep you close, and even harder to keep you out.
I’m failing. And I’m glad.
Just driving from place to place and talking like we’ve been friends for much longer than we’ve been in love, I am happy to say that this morning I woke up in your apartment, first with your arms around me, and then watching you get ready for work, drifting in and out of sleepiness from the exhausting day before.
Perhaps my favorite time in the mornings with you are when you sit on the bed with me lying in it, and kind of linger over me, not in a too-close-claustrophobic-episode way at all. Rather, in a way that I totally have my space to wake from my dizzy consciousness, until my half-open eyes find yours. And you look absolutely amazing, and I feel amazing, just because I know you feel this way towards me.
“I think I’m in love but it makes me kind of nervous to say so.”
I know I’m in love.
And that feels alright.
