Had I never met you, I’d not know this fullness in my heart.
…Though this fullness, is it really a bad thing?
Yes, my chest weighs a thousand pounds,
and yes, my heart beats faster than I though it ever could…,
but the sound of your voice filling my ears each night,
muddled by thousands of miles and several time zones,
by mediocre recording equipment and spotty internet connections,
begrudgingly draws a goofy grin across… what I once thought was a stone face.
You are the biggest smart ass I have ever met.
And goddamn, do I love you for it.
That mouth on you must be hereditary, running strong in your family.
The Dutch are the saltiest of them all…,
or so you’ve told me.
Your wit is one of your most prominent features.
That blade of a tongue of you’ve got could make the British guard laugh.
We’ll return you to the “motherland” one day.
Your maturity and intelligence do not match your life experience.
Despite your sense of humo[u]r,
I often forget your age.
You are a man before your time.
Selfless, kind… incredibly stubborn to the point of stupidity—
choosing, prioritizing even (words directly from your goddamn mouth), a crazy, unstable, passively-suicidal fuck like me.
“I care about you.” You said, on more than one occasion.
You didn’t explain,
at least not in a manner in which my emotionally-stunted mind could comprehend.
‘I care about you, too…’
Not verbally, of course.
I’m incapable of that—the emotional failure and all;
You are aware that I do, however.
Just to what extent…, I’m unsure.
You are an exception, a rarity.
You typically “aren’t my type”,
but for some reason,