You’re the perfect song that comes on the radio just when you’re getting ready to skip stations. Pleasantly surprising, but perfectly welcome. You know, the kind of song where you can’t help but sing along? You roll the windows down because it’s a nice day and you gently lean your arm out the window. You’re that song. I want to sing along and dance with my hair down and without my shoes, wild child and completely content to give myself up to the moment. It’s nice wishful thinking, but it’s hard to do. I want to sing in front of anyone, everyone but I’m self-conscious. What are they going to think about my not so invisible smile? I haven’t written about you before. I haven’t found the right metaphor for just what you mean to me so far. But put it this way: you’re there. You’re always there. It’s just too early to tell you that I think. Maybe you know, maybe I haven’t been so closed off from you. I just know I want to find you at the end of my days. Listen to that song, fall asleep smiling.

I found you in a sea of people – and hazy with one of the best buzzes money can buy, your eyes crinkled at the sides when you smiled. Sweat soaked, buzzed, but honeysuckle sweet you grabbed my hands and danced with me. The real kind; controlling where my feet when you spun me around and pulled me in close. I was ornery about leaving, I remember that. Stubborn and lost in that night, I stood at the top of the stairs until you came back and picked me up so I would stop complaining about my bare feet and my boots that you were carrying.

I want to just let go and let you take me everywhere like that.

I’ve said how much I love beginnings. The magic of what you don’t expect, you know? You don’t know what’s around every corner because you haven’t been there hundreds of times. You’re in the passenger seat, the driver taking you around hairpin turns so you can stick your head out the window and feel the warm breeze. You’re going somewhere that way, but you don’t really know where and you don’t really care. You feel warm on the inside, butterflies sometimes even. I do love a good beginning, especially when you can’t tell that the butterflies are good things. You don’t realize how good it feels until you’re in the middle of something more than just a beginning.

I don’t think that we’re more than a beginning yet, but there’s something deeper. I don’t worry about how you’ll think of me, what you’ll think of me. Instead of worrying, I’m curious about you. What’s your favorite song, what’s your favorite place? What do you do when you’re sad, who are you when no one else is around? Can I meet that person? I’m ready to admit I want to meet all sides of you. I want angry, I want sad, I want impatient. I want you. See? I gave, there. I’ve been too scared to believe that this might be more than simply a beginning because I want more. There. I want more, but I’m not ready to give up the passenger seat yet because I love looking at the views and I don’t want to leave anything unattended to while I’m getting lost in you.

I didn’t know how much I liked sleeping next to you until I was in an (un)familiar bedroom in a (un)familiar place. The way your chest falls and rises slowly is comforting – instead of needing to listen to a fan for sound, I listened to your heart and it put me to sleep. Don’t tell me I’m cliché but I want to take your shirt and sleep in it when you’re not there because I’m ready to have someone there. I want to feel something deeper, I want to just let go and let it carry me.

Maybe there really is a reason for everything because you walked in at the perfect time. Some kind of destiny or fate move – the way you happened in. When he was walking out, you casually held the door for him with those observant eyes of yours moved to me and you slipped in before the door closed. I think you’re perfect, but that’s a word I’ll keep to myself for a bit, yet. While I’m ready to let go of what I think should, of what might be, of what is, I want to transcend that with you. Strikes me as you do too, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

I like the sound of all of this – your name, your heart beats, your breath. I like the sound of you.