How relationships work:
I like your butt.
However, I can notice other butts. They can be nice too.
But your butt is my favourite butt. It’s the nicest butt. Because it’s mine. And I can touch it.
Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.
You don’t need to buy me expensive things or take me out to dinner every night or even every weekend. I don’t need the world or want the world. I want the little things. If you push my hair out of face or rub my back. Or if you randomly kiss my cheek. Or text me randomly saying you miss me. Or if you make a tweet about me or post a picture of us on instagram. Then that’s all I care about. I want the little things. I care way more about that, than anything else.