This Love

This love will be here, always, like the fingerprints on my glasses. This love is the letter that got lost in the mail, that could never be returned because it was never received. This love is the tattoo on my heart drawn with invisible ink. This love is the song that nobody can skip, because I always have it on loop. This love is the heavily annotated copy of my favorite book that will never collect dust. This love keeps me dry when I forget an umbrella.

And maybe I’ll never know what kind of love this is, but it’s here. It exists (even if you never know). It’s the kind of love that I hope everyone experiences (even if only once) like freshly cooked New York pizza.

And I still gaze at you, (even when you’re not here) like the way I gaze at the night sky when I’m stopped at a red light, when I’m looking for the moon, because I know it’s there. It exists.

And darling, I’ll always love you, fiercely, like the wind against my window during a rainstorm, even when the ink in this pen dries.