One. I’ll pluck a strand of your hair and compare it to honey,

light brown and translucent in the sunshine.

Two. I’ll fall in love with a bad song you recommend, only because you love it.

Three. I’ll take you somewhere I love because I want to show you where my soul goes to hide.

Four. I’ll love you in the ensuing silence that doesn’t stifle, but rather, perfumes.

Five. I’ll trace circles on your skin, revealing something extraordinary hidden in ordinary goosebumps.

Six. I’ll uncover your flaws and love you because of them,

not despite them.

Seven. I’ll show you a side no one knows and I won’t hold back,

because I won’t want to.

Eight. I’ll pick out odd fruits at the farmer’s market with you, so we can try new things together.

Nine. I’ll memorize your drink order, soon enough.

Ten. I’ll hold your hand waffle style, not like a mitten.

Eleven. If people were flowers, you wouldn’t be a rose.

You can find roses on every other street corner.

You’re a purple lady slipper.

I’ll probably never come across a specimen like you ever again in my life.

Twelve.

I’ll live my life out during the day, but let my mind wander at night and find its way to you

it’s just me and my thoughts, and your name is the last word on my tongue when I fall asleep.

Thirteen.

I’ll say it, I love you, not because I want to hear you say it back,

but because I meant it and I wanted you to know.

—