he washes the dishes in the sink because he knows I cannot bear to have wet food underneath my freshly manicured finger nails. he lets me decorate our home and never ever says its too girly. he holds my hands during scary movies, even if he thinks it’s silly. he scratches my head when sleep eludes me, slowly sending me off into dream land. and if those dreams turn out to be nightmares… he holds me still. he kisses me on the forehead because he knows it is my most favorite kind of kiss. he reminds me to take my medicine in the mornings, and on days when medication is not enough– when my anxieties consume me and has me fall into pieces– he picks me back up every single time. some days, when I’m crying in the mirror, he hugs me and tells me I’m beautiful. and he means it. he knows my favorite drinks to buy at the gas station. he always stops to get us ice cream even though it never sits right on his stomach. he watches trash TV with me and sings Taylor Swift in the car. he always puts his hand on my thigh while driving, and when he gets home from work every day– he kisses me. twice. he is always patient. never mean. he is always gentle with me, treats me like something he has prayed for. 

is this not what love is? to know every inch of someone’s mind and care for them anyway? to cradle someone’s aching heart in your hands and say “it’s okay, you’re safe now. I love you and I’m going to take care of you.”