▲ c : can / can't @ 05 June, 2014

I promise you that I will always tell you I love you, and not a day will go by that I will forget. Even if I’m tired, dredged with anxiety, and exhausted from the intensities of my day, I will always remember to tell you how I feel.
I can’t promise you that we won’t fight. I can’t promise you that we won’t have passionate discussions and get into arguments about absolutely everything and nonsensical nothings. I can’t promise you that we won’t give each other desirous kisses afterwards and fall in love all over again.

I can promise you that I love your scent; a mixture of cologne, optimism, and security. I could spend ages with my face buried into your chest, playing with your round cheeks.
I can promise you that I will hold your hand walking down the street, in the movie theatre, at the coffee shop, at restaurants, on the train, in the summer, spring, and fall. But I can’t promise that that my hands will be anything but cold. It’s a good thing that yours are consistently, amazingly warm. After all, opposites attract.

I can promise you that you make me happier than anything, with the little things you do and the small things you notice about me. The way you lightly stroke my face, always hold the door open for me, the way your eyes glimmer before we kiss endlessly.

I’ll always be by your side when you are weary and torn and on the verge of falling apart.