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Something like Love

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Here's the thing about love: It's not how it is. Or, rather, not how it should be. It's not full of soulmates and dreamy-eyed kissing, or starstruck lovers. It's the little things. The way he brews your coffee, the way he looks at you when you take that first heavenly sip. How he wraps his arms around you when you say goodnight, how he smiles softly when you realize you're finally, truly, happy. "I'm happy." you tell him, and he gives you that little smile and that special look. "I know," he says, softly. Isn't amazing, that when you're with someone, sometimes they can read you better than you can read yourself? "I love you" you say. "I know." he says, as he wraps you in and holds you close.


See? That's how it should be. But it isn't.



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