I'm still thinking about the way your voice warmed when you promised yes, and it's loud in me.

The scrape on the inside of your palm from the ring box is a detail I notice and want to kiss.

Seeing you fiddle with the receipt from the jeweller made me imagine the two of us later.

I keep returning to the feel of your hand finding my waist and the thought of holding you like that again.

I want you pressed to me while we keep saying silly things until we can't stop.

I keep picturing the way your sleeve hung loose and wanting to roll it up and stay.

I'm thinking of how your collar sat against your neck when you bent — it's a slow burn.

That nervous laugh you did when your voice shook is the sound I keep wanting to hear close.

I want the urgent, no-words minute when your hand finds mine and everything else drops away.

Seeing the tiny scratch you have on your knuckle makes me imagine smoothing it with my thumb.

I can't stop thinking about the small room, the light, and how you smelled when you leaned in.

The way your foot nudged mine under the table when you said yes is simmering inside me.

Hearing you call me by the pet name you used and then kiss my cheek — I keep wanting more.

I want you to press your forehead to mine in the kitchen later and not let go.

That speck of glitter that landed on your shoulder when you laughed is now a permanent distraction.

I keep replaying the hush between us after the question — it makes me impatient in the best way.

The warmth of your hand on my back as we stepped away is lodged in me and it's loud.

I want the small, unhurried minute after lights out where I can claim you again.

You biting your lip when you looked up at me is a short-circuit I keep returning to.

Just remembering how you said my name when you slipped the ring on makes me restless.

The way your thumb brushed the ring band has me planning a private celebration later.

I keep imagining holding you from behind while you read, and it's hard to concentrate.

That tiny wrinkle at the corner of your smile right after you looked at the ring is driving me wild.

You squeezing my knee in the car made me want to stop the world and only have you.

I'm thinking about the smell of your shirt after the ceremony and wanting it on my face.

When you traced the inside of the box with your finger I felt something sharp and delicious.

I want the next quiet minute with you where we don’t speak and I can just pull you close.

I keep picturing your hand steadying mine and wanting to press mine against you.

How you tucked your hair behind your ear before you bent down for the ring — I’m still burning.

Your laugh right after you said yes has me counting minutes until I can touch you.

When you slid the ring on I kept thinking about kissing the spot behind your ear.

I keep replaying how you swallowed when you said yes — I can't stop wanting you.

Seeing the ring on your finger and the freckle on your left wrist is distracting me all afternoon.

You slipped your thumb over the ring and I realized how much I wanted ordinary days with you.

I remember the mint you offered after nerves shook your hands — small and true.

You promised a lifetime of small mistakes and shared breakfasts and I accepted.

The quiet between us after you asked was full of all the little things we've done.

You chewed your lip for a second before speaking and I loved that honest pause.

You looked at me with that guilty grin when you misplaced the ring twice.

That tiny ding-ting when the ring box closed will play in my head forever.