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I want to back up to this whole caring about me thing,_ he said, surprising me as he made his way back to the canvas. __ know you care about me, Mallory.__y heart started beating fast as he shook the can.__ care about you._ He knelt halfway down. A second passed and he moved his arm, spraying on the canvas. __nd I think this was missing something.__aving no idea what he was doing or where he was going with this, I waited until he rose and stepped back, to the side. My lips parted on a soft gasp. Rider had spray-painted a heart between our names. I saw it with my own
Jennifer L. Armentrout The Problem with Forever
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I want to back up to this whole caring about me thing,_ he said, surprising me as he made his way back to the canvas. __ know you care about me, Mallory.__y heart started beating fast as he shook the can.__ care about you._ He knelt halfway down. A second passed and he moved his arm, spraying on the canvas. __nd I think this was missing something.__aving no idea what he was doing or where he was going with this, I waited until he rose and stepped back, to the side. My lips parted on a soft gasp. Rider had spray-painted a heart between our names. I saw it with my own

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You know what I love? The spaces between I love you. The tap of your fork against the plate and how my cup of wine clicks against our table. The scratchy voice coming from the radio in the other room. The quiet sound of your hand reaching across the table and whispering over mine. How your voice sounds like your mouth on the back of my neck. The soft murmur of our easy conversation.Between these quiet Tuesday night routines, following every comma and right after every pause for breath, is I, love, and you. In the middle of every I love you is a sink full of dishes, whisper of socked feet tangled in white sheets, and gentle kisses against curved cheeks. We lyric ourselves into the laundry that needs to be finished, into the ends of every smile that follows me repeating your name. We write ourselves into the grocery bags we need to carry, the cracks running up our rented walls, the sides of the bed we choose to drag up the sails of heavy eyed dreams.Like the spaces between our fingers, in the spaces between I, love, and you, we wait.The in-betweens have always been my favorite.

MK
Marlen Komar

Ugly People Beautiful Hearts