We both know the first time we’ve met. Somewhere in the world with a smirk and a smile. You standing there with an honest blush on your face. I never really told you when I first fell in love with you.
It was one of our dates where I took you to the cinema; as simple as it started, it was just the best way to remember. We stay in the dark and watched the drama unfold. Through it, I felt your hand drift into mine. Your head softly lean on my broad shoulders. I looked over to find your hand holding mine. I was still unsure if you would end up like every woman in my life, upped and gone. In the darkness, you reach out and squeezed almost telling me there is someone there for me. I squeeze back, hope you understand what that meant to me.
Though after the movie, I was regretting we watched the last show. I remember taking the train with you. The entire way to your stop, you just held me and I could only hold you back. In our embrace, the world didn’t seem to matter. Time didn’t even seem to matter. As we walked home in the street light, you asked me to come in; of course, I could never say no to you (except playfully). As I close the door behind the stone path leading to your house, you kissed me and pulled me up stairs. Dragging me towards your bed, you made your intentions known. I told you I was tired. You held me down on your bed and kissed softly, you laid me down and cuddled into my arms. I didn’t resist but insisted.
It was enough to know you wanted to be loved. I do; I love you.