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.

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 both forget names at dinner and laugh about it.

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.