He’s smoke and parks and open fields.
Alcohol and sunrises and sunsets.
He’s stubble and roses, benches and jamming.
And a secret smile that feels like home.
He’s loud music and city streets and ridiculous dancing.
Tickle fights, quiet nights and lazy sunlit mornings.
He’s bumping noses and laughter, cuddling on sofas and comfortable silences.
And a hug and a hand that says it’ll all be okay.
And then there’s you.
You’re coffee and secrets and blink-and-you-miss-them smiles.
You’re meaningful looks and articulate discussion and unfinished sentences.
You’re childish glee and surprised laughter and unexpected songs.
An apology and a thanks that’s never needed.