Our love is like a love song.
The kind you listened to in high school, windows down, belting ballads into a hair brush.
When the world felt young and anything was possible.
We would have been best friends then, like we are now—kids dressed up in adult clothes, creating magic with simple play.
Our love is like a love song.
The comfortable kind, that mom’s hum, rocking their baby back to sleep in the middle of the night, just to wake up and do it all over again.
Our love is like a love song.
You play on repeat and still cry when the tenor note is hit, trembling with shaky honesty, as we remember all things deep and real.
Our love is like a love song.
Cliché AF, but we both have an appreciation for words, so rarely use an acronym to describe a feeling state.
Our love is like a love song.
Because when the belly laughter begins, your head tilts back, mouth wide open, and I hunch over in your lap, until we are both drunk with uncontrollable tears.
Our love is like a love song.
A Beethoven classic, haunted by intimate connection we cannot explain, so we live every moment like it could be our last.
Our love is like a love song.
The kind that makes you want to skip through memory lane, where the power of kissing gets kids stupid high, and everyone gathers at recess to watch.
We look back through the window, to see the shape of ourselves.
Our love is like a love song.
Each note a unique sound only we hear, holding hands with a mystery we thought we had lost or maybe never found.
Our love is like a love song.
Bodies intertwined into moments of forgetting where you end and I begin.
Our love is like a love song.
A melody of eating ribs, you feed me, because the beauty of our existence is “all natural” and close to the bone.
Our love is like a love song.
Dancing in the living room to steps no one taught us. Eyes closed, feeling the rhythm of bodies in sync.
Our love is like a love song.
When time stops, welcoming silent pauses of naked souls, wrapped in flesh-on-flesh vulnerability.
Our love is like a love song.
With so many remixes, we shake our heads with wonder, “How did this ever happen?”
Our love is like a love song.
My teenage girl would have called you my “knight in shining armor.” And even though I’ve already saved myself, I could still use your help to pick up my pieces and snotty Kleenex when I’m sick.
Our love is like a love song.
The one we all know, because that’s why love songs were written.
To move our human imagination into rapture, beyond confines of everyday existence, and then drop us back into brushing our teeth on a Monday morning.
Heart valves must open and close to stay alive.
I’m open and you are closed, so we meet in the middle to teach each other “hurricane meets rock” ways.
Our love is like a love song.
That will always be alive in memories we create.
We don’t have to figure it out, because when the song ends, we know we can turn it on again tomorrow.
It may sound different, because we are always changing, but “our love is like a love song”—and that is enough for now.
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