In quiet and slow mornings like these, where I lie awake, waiting for time to pass and my alarm to go off, my mind is flooded of memories and thoughts of past loves lost and future loves longed for.

I think to myself, I long for a love with no particular person in mind. Instead, I long for a certain kind of love.

I long for a love where you’d notice me by my little things. By the way I run my fingers through my hair, tap my fingers on my mug when I’m thinking, and swirl my coffee around when I’m nervous.

I long for a love where you’d pay attention to the way I blink my eyes, moving my eyelashes slower than usual. I long for a love where your world would slow down for a second as our eyes lock, just as mine would for you.

I long for a love where my presence would warm you and suddenly knit sweaters and blankets wouldn’t do the trick.

I long for a love where you’d notice my feet poking out from the side of the booth where I lie. I want you to see my shoes, my jeans, my legs. I want you to see the scarf in my hair from behind and notice me by my little things.

I long for a love where song lyrics, melodies, and falling leaves in the winter remind you of me. I long for a love where bumping into each other becomes a favorite part of your day, as watching both of our eyes light up becomes a favorite part of mine.

I long for a love where you’d tangle your legs between mine and warm my hands between yours, as we’d keep each other warm on cold and rainy nights.

I long for a love where we’d both fall.

I long for a love where our days are spent laughing about nothing and joking about everything.

I long for a love where you’d see my untied laces, my crooked glasses, my legs tapping, and the crumbs on my lap and say in your head,

"There she is."