I hope one day someone looks at you like they’ve been waiting a long time to feel as happy as they do now. I hope they tell you cute things like how they found this cosy Italian restaurant around the corner and kiss your nose before spinning you around in the street. I hope when you ask them to go for a walk in the middle of the night they don’t complain that it’s too cold and even though you can see the condensation of your breath in the midnight air I hope you feel warm. I hope old ladies smile knowingly when you walk by, hand in hand, along the pavement and I hope you are smiling too.
When he whispers how much he loves you I hope you feel your heart beating so fast you’re scared you’ll never recover. I hope he stays and makes you feel important, like he wants every part of this and isn’t afraid to admit it. I hope he finds words that touch you where his fingers cannot and knows how to pull your hair when you’re feeling electric but hold your soul when you’re fragile like glass. And I hope you find someone who asks before they kiss you, not because they need permission but because they want to see your knees buckle and your lips part ways. I hope their hands feel right around your waist when you reply ‘yes’ and again ‘yes’, until you’re falling apart in his arms whispering ‘yes, yes, yes’ and I hope you never need to ask if he’s the one because the answer will be staring you in the face.
S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #71
“I’m scared I’ll never feel love like the kind you write about” (via blossomfully)