on august 31, 2017, i kind of told you to date me. i'm not illiterate, i know it's not the thirty first and that not every month has a thirty first; but happy (almost) one month, baby. i don't know why you put up with me in the entirety of this time, or how you haven't had one foot out the door. i don't know why you stick with someone who fails to remind you she loves you and that she kind of gets mad 10210293 times a day.
see, you're the kind of guy with flowers in his heart and stars in his eyes. you're the kind of guy i wasn't supposed to be anything more then friends with because, frankly, you're too good for me. sometimes, we spend hours without talking to each other and almost days and the fact that you still manage to come back, whether you're exhausted or depressed or whatever, and say you still like me is a feat in itself.
you write all these small paragraphs for me and put this stupid little smile on my face and i can never string the right piece of words together to describe how infatuated i am with you. how, after days and even weeks of waiting, i somehow get the privilege of calling you mine.
you make my world spin,
and my stars shine,
you make me smile
when i feel like i won't again,
you never fail to remind me
that your heart beats with mine,
and i don't know how i got so damn lucky.
truthfully, i don't have an ounce of an idea of how long this might last but whether it's weeks or months or just a few more days, i'm more than thankful to have spent some of my life with you. to be blessed with someone as great as you. as that one kid said in the fault in our stars, it'd be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.