You. #2

The Cheshire-cat sized grin on my face is what I give you credit for. The spring in my step as I walk through the winter rain with my parka hood nestled cosily around my face, shielding my hair from the violent weather. The hot cup of coffee that greets my lips every single morning. The smell of you on my clothes, my skin and in my hair. The way I seem to struggle to catch my breath every time I see you. I clam up, I'm suddenly shy. I feel my cheeks go crimson and my tongue get tied. Your voice echoes familiarly in my ears, your face is burnt on my retina for reference when you're not around; a memory for later, a just-incase stock of happy images, words, voices. Kept for a rainy day, or just a lonely one. The one person who cared enough to push back, to stay, to have faith in me and my stubborn ways, to trust me, accept and appreciate who I am. Someone I could tell anything and everything to. A confidante, a best friend, a drinking partner, a fellow lover of literature and someone just very, very important to me. My smile doesn't shift. Even if it's not physically on my face, I am just so happy. It's silly.