I love you as you are,
I accept you as you are.
I sit in quiet darkness, waiting for truth from your lips and warmth from your touch. But they will not come and I have to make my peace with it.
I pray to no god as I think of you and hope against all hope that you come to me without reservations and fear. But you will not come and I have to make my peace with it.
This is how I love you. Knowing you will not come but hoping that you will, knowing in my heart the truth of it all.
This is how I love you. As you are, even when you are short with me and anger comes to you. As you are, even when you’re afraid and coldness emanates from you.
I love you. Because you are funny, or rather you think you are. Because you are sweet and kind. Because you are intelligent and work hard. Because you are a good man.
Because you speak Spanish to me and because you text me in German.
Because you get mad at me and you cook me spaghetti.
Because you build a wall and don’t let me in.
Because you kiss me softly and you flirt.
Because you love your cat and most of all . . .
I love you because you’re imperfect as I am, and . . .
I love and I couldn’t say why.