Dear future husband

I do not waste my time and energy on useless conversations, love. Talk to me about your fears. Or what keeps you going. Tell me about your dreams, your thoughts, and your eyes. How do you like to see things through them? Tell me the first time you were able to forgive yourself. Tell me a story, a good story. Maybe about a little boy who fell in love with painting and never stopped. Or a teenager with that fucking fear of asking a girl out. Or that “live in the moment” kind of man who stepped out of his comfort zone raising a middle finger at life.

See, I crave long and intimate conversations at 1:58. But not the kind that makes you want to have sex. I have my own definition of intimacy.
I want to hear what you think. I want to feel the warmth of your soul. I want to unravel you without being naked.
Take me to an art museum and then stare at me like I’m a masterpiece.
Kiss me while I’m in the middle of saying something.
Tell me if I’m being a pain in the ass.
Pick fights with me, spoil me, drag me to the roof and convince me how important it is to see how beautiful the stars are tonight.
Handle my feelings with care and I will love you forever.
Give me your heart and in return,
I will give you
my word.

 

(photographer yet unknown)

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