I like you, very much.
I like you when you are healthy and when you are sick.
I like you when you are happy and when you are not.
I like you when you are friendly and when you are
cranky.
I like how you drive, when you multitask in between
talking to me and focusing on the road and glancing towards my side.
I like how you complain about some drivers but never blurt
sexist or racist remarks while at that.
I like how you brag about how perfect you park your
car.
I like how you talk to your car, as if it is your closest company. Because I believe it is.
I like how you keep your car tidy with the exception
of those used tissues inside bottom pocket of your door.
I like how you offer me the small olive green
rectangle cushions at the back of your car when I feel drowsy.
I like how you explain about the needs of your car as
if I could do something about it.
I like the way you listen to me rambling about
anything --
you’d look at me attentively and
you’d leer around my scarf and
you’d sip on your drink and
you’d nod when you approve and
you’d frown when you disagree and
you’d chuckle at my lame jokes and
you’d laugh at my absurdity and
you’d smile at my revelations.
These small gestures, well, I love them.
I like how your appearance changes over the course of
years --
small then, tougher now;
messy then, sharper now;
fair then, darker now;
petite then, taller now,
and those parts that have never changed --
your hair: dark, wavy and messy;
your eyes: dark brown, glistening and round;
your lips: pale pink, curved and full.
I like the way you are around me --
the way you look at me like you have not seen me in decades;
the way you leer at my clothes like I have the best
wardrobe in the world;
the way you sip on your drink slowly with those full
lips of yours;
the way you nod at something delightful like they are
your best dessert;
the way you frown at something unpleasant like they
are your worst steak;
the way you chuckle at little amusing things like they invisibly tickle you;
the way you laugh at humorous subjects like they are
the joke of the century;
the way you smile at the world like nothing ever
bothers you.
I like you.
I have liked you throughout these eight
years.
And I will still like you, probably, even more.
End of Part 1.
Footnote: I haven't posted for what have got to be like seventy years because I was very busy being a trainee teacher and I may have plenty to write before this but they all went into draft section due to my tight schedule thus unable me to finish my barf of intellectual opinions.
Congratulations, you earn yourself my very own barf of cheesy emotional thing instead with long footnote as a bonus. Yeayyy, not.
