The way your skin prickles up every moment they’re around you.
The way you never quite get used to them touching you, so that when they grab your hand, your heart lurches (in the best way).
The way you can just catch them looking at you out of the corner of their eye and your body goes limp.
The way you can’t stop looking at them, as if all you want to do is create a new sense that allows you to properly take them in, because your eyes don’t do them justice.
The way the world around you completely dissipates, like you two exist in complete clarity, and everything else is a blur.
The way you look back and wonder how you lived your life before them, and how there was a vacant space in the shape of them that happened to be open the moment you met them.
The way you fall asleep together in those first love-hazed months, all tangled into one being, feeling safe and loved in a way you couldn’t have even dreamt up.
The way their fingertips seem to hold the nerve endings to your skin.
The way they smell – no matter what time or day – and how you want to bottle them up.
The way they’ll leave an item of clothing behind and you’ll smell it throughout the day, momentarily forgetting that this is kind of creepy.
The way you miss them with an ache, like they have left for the day with an essential part of you that you want them to have, but that it hurts to be without.
The way your mind clouds when you’re not with them and then, when you reunite, the way your mind is clear and vibrant again.
The way every one of your senses is heightened, like how eggs for breakfast taste different when you’re eating those eggs with them.
The way everything you do together feels like it belongs in a romance film, all black and white and urgent kisses.
The way every moment feels intimate and private, like you’re in on a secret together.
The way you want to devour their entire life’s history, to know where they come from, to know where they’re going.
The way their voice lowers to a whisper when you’re in bed together, like they’re careful not to disturb the intimacy.
The way you laugh with your head rolled back, the deep guttural belly laugh reserved only for the kind of humor that exists within this kind of love.
The way things you never cared about suddenly become things you want to do, like exploring your city or going to parks or going to the zoo, any way you can stroll hand in hand and explore together is what you want to be doing.
Or, the way you can be in silence together, no tension hanging in the air, no desire to fill the void, just a silence, a cursory look to make sure the other is occupied, a sly smile when they catch you looking, and a strange contentment you thought was going to elude you your entire life.