I don’t really know how to say this.
It’s the feeling I get when I see your eyes, the way you laugh and smile. A lot of people know me, but not like you.
The way you cried for almost an hour last January, when you thought I might not make it off that highway, might not make it through. You cussed the icy roads and called Henry a ‘bloody idiot’ for drinking.
There’s times I think, I might know you better than anyone else. The way you brush your hair over your shoulder, or the shade of pink your cheeks turn when you hear something in my head thats a little ‘kinky’ as your mom once called it. I still remember the pillow you threw at her.
But when you showed me the world, that’s when something clicked. You take me places I’ve never been and have no real hope of going. I’ve seen the sun setting on a hill in the country. Sitting under the branches of an old oak. Watching the sun shine over your freckled, slightly sun burned face. Or the time you went to visit London for Christmas. The snowflakes, the smell of the fire. The view of the busy city from the window.
My story, must be an important one, for you to want to live it over and over again. You always come back, it might be a few months but I can always count on your shinning face looking down at me. Your red hair hanging down around your shoulders. I get the feeling I’m your escape, the place you go when you’re looking for comfort or a place to just be yourself. You have no idea how honored I am to be that for you. To be able to give something to you.
It wasn’t always like this. For the longest time you were just one of thousands who glanced at me, who flipped me over to see if I looked any good. But then you came back. You of all people gave me more, gave me something to hope for. If I can ever get out of here, I’ll find you. I promise you that.
I don’t really know how to say this, but I think I’m falling in love in with you. And secretly I think you might like me, just a little bit too.
