...the froth of cream on your upper lip as you take that first sip of coffee.
...the tiny scar hidden behind your watch on the inside of your left hand.
...the mist from your breath that clouds the window, deep with longing.
...the first whiff of petrichor you inhale as it rains.
...the warmth of your faded blanket on your ice cold toes.
...the well thumbed page of your favorite book of poetry.
...the words that you bleed on to a page, black against white.
...the wind whipping against your face on a hill top.
...all this and so much more.
I want to be the love you deserve. Just let me.