it is hard. there will be droughts but you will have months of water stored from all the surging waterfalls in your heart. he will love you, you will love him; even when the butterflies are quiet, even when you feel alone in the home you made in his chest. hold on. you will find each other again. it is still love. there will be days it does not take your breath away, do not worry. you are human. it is still beautiful. it is only growing.
do not stay upset for long. remember you love him. remember he loves you. remember he makes mistakes. and when he says he’s sorry, he means it. let him say he’s sorry. forgive him.
the creak of floorboards are whispers.
you are a bird, a tree without roots, a cold morning, no wonder it is him you’ve fallen towards.
do not settle for less than a phone call when you’re upset. always tell him the truth. never be ashamed of your sadness. let him validate your feelings when he tries to.
listen to him. he may not always tell you how his heart looks. he may not be able to easily talk through his fathers cancer. ask him, be patient.
build a home in your arms and welcome him, always. he is a man but he is also a boy. don’t let either of them stay out in the cold. chances are, they both need to cry.
this is not about you. this has never been about you. let him love you but love him even when he forgets. love him when he breaks a promise. love him when he asks for forgiveness.
do not settle. love someone wholly. find a canyon, a mountain range, an impossible 2pm sunset. find a constellation, find a day where the sun never sets.
you will find him in everything. he will be 600 miles away and you’ll find the color of his eyes or the way he laughs and it’ll come like the wind; brief and full and your eyes might water and your heart might sing a foggy echo but let it. it is only fair.
he will be 600 miles away and you will feel like an attic, like a broken tea cup, like a whole lot of empty, of nothing, that can’t ever be filled.
it is okay. you are okay. you love and you love deeply. you will be okay.
drink coffee on slow mornings and think of his hands.
think of the first time he traced your palm with his fingertips and it was as if you were nothing but morning light and shifting dust. think of his smile, think of his laugh, think of his steady chest beneath your sleepy eyes. you won’t ever find a place so right than beside him. but you, too, must know, though you will not always be home.
you will always find it again.