What I Think Of When I Think of You

myDays / S.Lee
myDays / S.Lee

When I think of you I immediately think of warmth. Thoughts alone of your incandescence are strong enough to produce a physical sensation of heat. You’re a study in thermodynamics. I think of the warmth you generate; the way your skin radiates, the glowing embers of your heart, and how all of these things have protected me from the cold of the world.

I think of the length of your eyelashes. I think of the weight of your cheek on my cheek. I think of the righteousness of your curves, of tasting bourbon off your lips, the hard allure of your soft confidence.  I think of your hair, because, who wouldn’t?

I don’t think about the bad times. I don’t think of misunderstandings, or miscommunications. I don’t think about logistics. I don’t think about pain.

I think of how much strength it takes to be tender. Then I think of how effortlessly you are kind.  I think of the very slight sting when I first learned you were smarter than me. I think of the intense magnetic pull when I first learned you were smarter than me.

I think about the East Village. I think about Toronto. I think about Kyoto and how much you loved the trees at Kodai-ji.  I think about wondering when the staircase to your apartment in Harlem would collapse, and when the kitchen cabinets finally did. I think about how in that same kitchen, when the cabinets were still attached to the wall, you threw my tea bag in a cup of cold water, because you were so nervous.

I think about how you have a matching scar on each wrist from where you burned your skin because you were so eager to retrieve cookies from the oven. I think about how much you love honey and how allergic you are to honey and how sometimes the things we love can hurt us.   I think about how sometimes the things we love can hurt us.  I think about how sometimes the things we love can hurt us. I think about how sorry I am about some things.

When I think of you I think of love. When I think of you I think of laughter. When I think of you I think of how a person can also be a location and how you are a safe place. I think of how you are a warm bed, you are a hopeful word, you are a sweet wish, you are a shared smile, you are a balanced drink, you are a wry whisper, you are a hand outstretched, you are a gentle voice welcoming me into and out of dreams, and you are a thousand other secret things laid out in so many other words and letters.

When I think of you I think of how certain things have changed so drastically from when I first used to think of you—and how they will continue to change—and how certain I am that I will always, always, think of you. TC mark

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    Reblogged this on Conversations I Wish I Had and commented:
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    Reblogged this on audessousdelaverite and commented:
    This is how it used to be. Things are a bit diff’rent now. I still love you though.

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