His Little Things

I love your weird taste in music.
I love your thrifted clothes and how you love them, especially that one long sleeve.
I love the opening questions you ask everyone you meet.
I love that you're soft spoken, until you're not.
I love your loud voice, it vibrates my soul.
I love your sarcasm.
I love your laugh and how every time I hear it, I crave more of it.
I love when you're smiling in a photo and not for a photo.
I love when you lean forward with that flirty look in your eye and that low tone in your voice.
I love your hugs.
I love how you know your way around my kitchen.
I love looking at you, watching you exist.
I love the way you walk.
I love your chunky sweaters.
I love that you sometimes opt for a black coffee instead of a latte.
I love the way your hair shines in the sun.
I love that it has taken me a while to crack your shell open.
I love that there is still so much to learn about you.
I hate that I left it all unsaid.
I hate that I feel like I can't tell you.
I hate that we could lose whatever this friendship is.
I hate that I never asked you how you felt.
I hate that I still don't know a huge part of your life.
I hate that we don't talk on the regular anymore.
I hate that I probably care more than I should, while you might not at all.
I hate that I notice the little things about you, it'd be easier if I didn't.
I hate that I love the little things about you, it'd be easier if I didn't.
I hate that it feels forbidden to love you, it'd be easier if I didn't.