There are many ways to tell you I love you.
Three simple words
That the stars even whisper to the moon
Three words that can be replaced and rearranged,
But it still holds the same meaning, regardless of the way they are said.
You can say I love you when under white sheets
Wrapped together on a Sunday morning
With tea in hand and the windows cracked open
You whisper ‘I love you’
In a breathy moan with our wandering hands.
You are my alter,
The thing I wish to worship for the rest of my years.
There are so many pieces of you that reminds me of art
I mean, truly reminds me of art.
The soft slope of your nose
The chocolate mess of curls that cascade down your back
The way your cheeks flush pink when we share a quiet moment.
Your bite marks on your quills from drowning in your own thoughts
And the cracked skin of your lips from tearing them apart.
You have watercolor tears
That make a mess on your books
Crinkling the pages, and smearing the print
You are a mess, Hermione Granger.
But not in a ‘you’re dirty’ way
You are messy in a way that makes my heart sing.
The tea stains on the coffee table
All of the candle wax that covers your desk
The crumpled to-do list shoved in your pocket
None of these things bother me
I am so in love with watching you be alive.
Because they remind me that you are here.
You are whole.
You are mine.
When we go to the art museum
For our monthly visit
Looking at the perfectly placed golden frames, on cream walls,
Our eyes wander
Following each brush stroke that we have counted, a good million times
Understanding the way the artist blended the colors.
The art is beautiful, regardless of the flaws
But even still you are the most beautiful piece in the room.
Surrounded by timeless art
History placed among every wall
The only thing my eyes come back to
Seems to be you
Standing in the middle of a crowd
Admiring the pieces
Scribbling furiously in your notepad
Your thirst for knowledge pouring over every page.
You make my heart beat.
You, Hermione Granger,
Are everything to me.