You are the version of myself I used to hide from, too scared to look at unfiltered. You'll always terrify me a little bit because of that. The way you do things without pause and with full intent. Despite everything, you are relentlessly loving, even when we fight, and there, you're always fucking right there with open arms. I need you more than air to the lungs. You've given me the space between the pillars I've asked for coupled with the kind of care and understanding and intimacy that I didn't think could manifest in any one person. I want a million more kisses over book pages, shared through coffee cups and cigarettes, littering photo albums.

I want all of your days and nights to fill them with talks about music and theory and science and religion and politics, adventures - even if they're just to the supermarket for garlic bread ingredients, marks and stains and permanent impressions, days on couch island, stockings and gold and even Celtics games, sleepy drunken airplane rides and tattoos done in Sharpie or knives, morning walks, late night dances, ruined clothes from sticking my head under your shirt when I'm anxious or ripped threads when you're impatient, arguments over who changed the toilet paper roll last and extensive power point presentations to make a case for sexual expeditions or what's for dinner, spending entire weekends in bed, knowing looks across party rooms and our parents' tables, every damn holiday - even the ones I hate, especially the ones I hate.

I want it all. With you.