I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I say, “how did you sleep last night away from your bed?” I wanted to tuck you in.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I’m smiling in your passenger seat adjusting your A/C, listening to you sing.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I tell you, “I got you this because it made me think of you.” I want to make you smile.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I’m holding my hand out to offer you a bite before you even ask, trying yours, too.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I say, “I love how much you love things,” when you go on and on about your obsession, all words I’ve heard come out of you many times before.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I sigh in relief when you kick your legs up over mine, weight and warmth radiating into me.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I tell you, not able to look you in the eye, “I can’t really imagine my life without you in it.”
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I bury my face in your chest, arms linked behind your back, and I think this is what heaven must feel like.
I don’t have to say “I’m in love with you.”
I can simply say, “I love you.”