I want to keep sharing the small stubborn comforts we both refuse to change.

I appreciate how you fix the loose button with that same old needle.

I want to keep interrupting your TV shows just to hear you laugh.

I want to keep sharing playlists that make us both roll our eyes.

I love how you insist on watering the plant every Wednesday without fail.

I like that you still leave sticky notes on the fridge with terrible handwriting.

I want to keep hearing your voice on the porch in the morning.

I’m fond of the scratch on your thumb from the garden last week.

Your dry joke about the thermostat is part of my day now.

I want to keep learning the little ways you take your coffee.

I love how you fold the laundry into neat piles; it calms me.

Seeing your jacket on the chair tells me I’m glad you came back.

I like that we buy the same cheap ice cream and pretend it's special.

I appreciate that you notice when I'm trying to hide being tired.

I am grateful you make space for my clutter on the bookshelf.

I like that you leave Post-its with silly reminders on the fridge.

I love hearing your voice on the phone when I'm washing up.

I want to keep being the one you complain to about cold showers.

I still get a little excited when you say my name from the doorway.

I love that you call me from the hardware store to pick a screw.

I want to keep being the person you tell small victories to.

I like that we share the same old mug for iced coffee.

I enjoy making plans for a Sunday that ends with nothing special.

I am proud of how patient you are with my stubborn mornings.

I like holding your hand in the grocery aisle like we did last week.

I like that we still steal the last slice of pizza from each other.

You humming while you wash dishes is a good sound to fall asleep to.

I feel safest when you take my keys from my hand at night.

I want to keep learning your new jokes even when they're old.

I notice the way you fold the towels and it calms me.

I love the steady comfort of knowing you'll be there on small weekends.

Your handwriting on the grocery list makes me smile when I find it.

I'm glad we both argue about the thermostat instead of ignoring it.

You make the morning coffee better just by asking how I slept.

I still keep your threadbare blue sweater in the car for cold mornings.

You leave your shoes by the bed and I trip over them with fondness.

You tighten the screws on the chair and I admire that thrift.

You hum in the shower and I plan my day to that tune.

You drop crumbs into the couch and I find them later and smile.

Your old hat still hangs by the door and I touch it sometimes.