Nice teeth, deep eyes, and some curls to play with.  Raw, total honesty, even if it hurts, because I like hearing his every thought and I hate not knowing.  When he calls me baby, and his occasional nicknames for me (ahem).  The good type of silence.  That he makes me think harder and second-guess myself because he’s the only person I cannot read like a book.  His uneven eyebrows, his bone structure.  Warm sweaters, torn shoes.  What he reads, what he listens to, how he walks (yes, even that).  How we are around each other, what we talk about.. some things you just know.

Every single memory I have of him has run through my mind a hundred times, at least.

Probably the most cheesiest post I’ve ever written (and I’m sure there’s quite a steep competition for that), but I’ve had a lot on my mind that I needed to release somewhere.