I hope he knows.
I hope he knows that I'm always in the mood to talk about nothing or everything, for 7 hours or even just 7 minutes. But that I love his silent company just the same.
During the seconds in between the minutes & in the minutes that make up the hours, he's there, walking along my mind & memory as if he stole them.
I hope he knows that even when his back is turned to me, I can't help but smile at him like he holds all the night's stars right in the palm of his hand.
I hope he knows that I have no idea how to find the right words anymore, and even if I did I'd still ramble anyway & that his arms around my waist are to blame.
I hope he knows how dizzying holding his hand can be.
I hope that he knows that I want nothing more than to know him. To learn who he is & how he got there, no matter how long it takes.
...to show him who I am, and how I got here.
& despite the two thousand miles between us, my lips still burn since the last time he kissed me
&
I hope he knows.