1220

You have always hoped for incredible things quietly. You whisper your expectations into wild flowers. Your dreams are seen only when you sleep. You speak of your desires when you think nobody is listening, and your anticipation takes refuge under your breath. You have never needed microphone optimism. You have always built your sandcastles out of patience and silent confidence. And that, my darling, is exactly why good things come to you.

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When I first met you, it was as if I had spent a lifetime missing someone, and you were finally returned to me. You were an airport terminal. You were the bus station embrace. You were the question of whether we would pick up where we left off or start over new.