ˈin-tə-mət

"The sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe"

I love being intimate.

You know, its just me and him.  I can feel his hands on my knee.   The sparkle in his eye.  A tiny smile plays on his lips.  We don't have to be alone.  I love when he slips his hand onto my lower back or pushes his check toward my lips. 

Its the simple knowledge that he's mine.  It makes my heart swell.  Knowing things about him that others don't even think about or better, know. 

A glance.  A smile.  Something between him and I.

I thrive on that in a relationship.  I need it to function.  I love being close to him. I love experiencing the same things as him. 

I love catching the eye of this boy I admire from across the way.  I love when he gives me a tiny wink to say, "I love you."

I love getting a light hug, a sweet little kiss, a tiny slap on the butt.

I love when you go to leave the room, but can't quite leave until you come back and give me one last kiss.  Its like that moment is required for you to continue your day.  The way you reach for me a night to snuggle.  Pulling me close to you as if I'm your security blanket. 

When I catch those quick and quiet glances I let my heart melt and feel at peace because I was just told without words that I'm loved.

H.E. loves me.  I know this without  needing to stand by him while we're out or be with him 100 percent of my day.   

I love doing different things and coming back to him.

I love the way he takes care of me without even thinking about it.    Bringing me home my favorite drink.  Doing the dishes at night.  These little things are tiny strings that make us stronger.

I loved the day you grabbed my nose and said, remember the good times.  So this, babe, is me remembering the good times.  Me loving that you are not the same as the boys in my past.  Me loving you for loving me.