HOW DO I TELL HIM I LOVE HIM?

It is in the darkest hours that I find myself thinking of a vibrant and lively soul such as you. It is in the first breath of morning that I find myself remembering the way you made me feel invincible, bold, and outspoken.

The way you made everything feel infinite. The way I felt like I could conquer every fear, every doubt, every insecurity after catching a glimpse of your small smile in the sunlight.

I would face every fear as long as you stood within arm’s length. I would ride the Goliath at Six Flags. I would stand on glass floors in large skyscrapers. I would skydive, cliff jump, or swim in the deepest parts of the ocean. I would do it all for the chance to sit next to you.

How do I tell you about the way your presence extinguishes my fire and swallows me whole?

How do I tell you how you pique my curiosity enough for me to care about how you prefer your coffee in the morning? Is it with sugar, cream, or do you prefer it as black as the night sky? The same one I sit under thinking about how it would feel to look at you and have you reciprocate the same passion that lingers within me.

How do I tell you I love you?

Maybe I’ll tell you while we sit on a balcony overlooking St. Charles. Maybe it’ll be at your favorite hole-in-the-wall beignet shop across town. Maybe it’ll be after I’ve dragged you along with me to my favorite karaoke bar on Bourbon. You’ll hate it and find it “touristy” and laugh once I step on stage and sing offkey to a Bon Jovi classic. But maybe… once we step outside, surrounded by crowds of gaudy people with cheap beads, you’ll ask me to follow you to your favorite bench in Jackson Square.

We’ll sit and you’ll tell me how you enjoy looking at the art in the Square on a sunny day. I’ll tell you how I love your art and find your creativity refreshing. After a long slew of sentences and pointless banter, maybe I’ll finally look at you in all of your timeless stature. Maybe I’ll bashfully smile and look at the ground before whispering those three heavy words under my breath.

Maybe you’ll hear me and acknowledge my bravery. Perhaps you’ll even smile and reply with what I wish.

Maybe you won’t.

Either way, I’ll acknowledge that love can be lethal, and accept that I am a martyr.

WHERE DID WE MEET AGAIN?