Sunday, 4 October 2015


I will express this here. Not on deviantart because even there I feel so exposed.

I feel so comfortable with you it's insane.
Can I say I love you? I love really easily but I can't say we are love yet. It has just reached a week since we both made our feelings clear. It's way too early to call what we have as 'love'.
But do I love you? Yes, in certain moments though, when you are so gentle with me, what is there not to love? When you ask if I'm alright because you're showing me all these things I've never known before. It warms my heart so much to know you can be so gentle and caring. But I'm not scared with the things you show me, it's weird. You make me feel so safe, so comfortable.

You are incredible you know? The way you love to cuddle me from behind and kiss me on the forehead. The way you call me cute all the time, the way you love my giggles as you play with my tummy and tickle me. The way you know how to take things slow so that I never freak out too much. You just know the right pace to take things, with a girl who's a flight-risk, it feels like no risk at all with you. Most of all I just love the way you make me feel safe and comfortable around you.

I wouldn't call any of these things love because it's the love of what you do for me, and that isn't love. But I'll learn to love you, your soul, your being, your everything. I'll learn to love you in no time at all. What I'm starting to love first is how gentle you can be with people, how you love animals and children. You have a kind caring heart. Sure you have your impatience and rudeness at times, but flaws make us human and I will learn to love you flaws and all.

When I'm in your arms I stare at you, blurring eyed with a smile and often you would ask me 'what' and I would ask you 'why can't I just look at you with a smile'. With that question I think you found your answer and you no longer question why I look at you like that. It's the look of I-can't-believe-I'm-in-your-arms and I-can't-believe-you're-here. It's the look of I-want-to-make-sure-this-is-real. That's why I stroke your face, because I want to make sure it's real. That you're real.

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