I can promise you that I will kiss you every day that I love you, because to me your lips are as impeccable as perfection can be. I promise you that I will always tell you I love you, and not a day will go by that I will forget. Even if I’m tired, dredged with anxiety, and exhausted from the intensities of my day, I will always remember to tell you how I feel.
I can’t promise you that we won’t fight. I can’t promise you that we won’t have passionate discussions and get into arguments about absolutely everything and nonsensical nothings. I can’t promise you that we won’t give each other desirous kisses afterwards and fall in love all over again.
I can promise you that I will always keep you motivated and be your best cheerleader. I’ll always be by your side when you are weary and torn and on the verge of falling apart. I can promise you that I will love you so unconditionally that it will make you deliriously happy.
I can’t promise that I will have the best taste in movies, or TV shows, or ever get over my bad cooking habits. I have a guilty spot for Say Yes To The Dress, absolutely adore Mean Girls, and I will always be addicted to grilled cheese. But we both love Disney and milkshakes and How I Met Your Mother, so it’s okay. We’ll be okay.
I can promise you that I love your scent; a mixture of cologne, optimism, and security. I could spend ages with my face buried into your chest, playing with your tousled bronzed hair, your arms wrapped tightly around me as a sense of serenity washes over me.
I can promise you that I will hold your hand walking down the street, in the movie theatre, at the coffee shop, at restaurants, on the train, in the summer, spring, and fall. But I can’t promise that that my hands will be anything but cold. It’s a good thing that yours are consistently, amazingly warm (even in the winter). After all, opposites attract.
I can promise you that you make me happier than anything, with the little things you do and the small things you notice about me. The way you lightly stroke my face, always hold the door open for me, the way your eyes glimmer in white hot lust before we kiss endlessly. The way you hold me in the morning when I’m slightly hungover, and the way your voice lilts strongly, but softly, when you say that you love me. I can promise you that I do, very much so, love you too.
I can promise you that the day you left me, you broke me when you admitted that every single time you said you loved me, you never meant it. I can’t promise you that you didn’t instill into my very subconscious to question any other man in my life if he were to ever tell me he loved me.
I can’t promise you that I will ever forgive you for what you did to me. I hold no hatred, ill feelings, or maliciousness towards you, but that doesn’t mean you deserve my forgiveness for all the things you did. I can promise you that you shattered, crushed, and absolutely demolished the very essence of loving in my heart.
I can’t promise you that I can change the ideals in your head that I was never good enough for you. I’m sorry for loving you to pieces, for wanting to build a future with you, for wanting to write poetry for you. I can’t promise you that you will meet someone that will mentally and emotionally support you, but I wish you the best of luck that you do. I just hope you actually love the woman who might someday love you as much as I did.