We spend the morning tangled up in each other’s arms, drunk off of the smell of each other’s skin. I make your tea just the way you like it, and set it on your nightstand as your messy hair cascades over the pillow. Our day consists of stealing glances, being reminded of the familiar feeling of being content, and kisses that still feel like home.
Boxes lay strewn about in rooms all over the house, with black sharpie handwritten “kitchen” or “master bedroom.” I can’t help but think about what it will be like when your head rests in another place, just a few miles across town. Will you still feel me kissing you goodnight? Will you joke as you rush around with wet hair and a tube of mascara in your hand, that one day you’ll make it to work on time?
We lay in bed, rifling through memories like an old photo album sitting in the dusty corner of our mixed up minds. As you quiz me on the location of our favorite date, or how we first met — in that moment I know, I would never, could never leave you. As you wrap your legs around me, I sigh, and watch you giggle, fixing the gaze of your sparkling blue eyes onto mine. A look that says, please don’t shatter the already broken parts of me. And in that look, I hope you saw the next 60 years of my life — of our life — carefully handling the pieces that you, with graceful strength, managed to put back together.
You are mine, and I am yours, and when you said, “Because who wants to spend the rest of their lives alone?”, I saw you and me sitting on a porch swing, wrapped in each other’s arms, and a ring on your finger that promised my best friend for better or worse.
You have me. So don’t let me go.