How would I know what it's like to love when all I've ever known are songs and stories? I don't think real life love is really just torn shirts and lemon lime candy and burning gravel driveways like they are in the books. Maybe there's more, maybe there's less. If I were to tell you that I really knew, I'd be lying, and that's one thing you don't want to do while in love- or, let's say while in a relationship. It sounds safer. Maybe I do know more about love then I think I do.
I'd rather not be a cliche and say I want to rock under lanterns in a wooden rowboat, but I do want to break into water parks in the dead of night and taste strawberry chapstick ghosting on my lips as I lie awake in bed, and I want to let my feet twinge on cold tiles as you spin me around a kitchen in the mornings as pancakes sizzle in the background. I want to feel gravel in my knees as I sit on a park bench with you as my skin absorbs lamplight like rays of midnight sunshine making me glow paler instead of tan. I wouldn't mind falling for you- from a tree outside your bedroom window, from a concrete statue I climbed just to impress, or just plain falling is fine too. I want to learn to love again and again and again and I want you to do it with me.
Except I don't know who you are, and I have a few ideas, and it's all I can do to not act upon them. How can I let down my hair without a Flynn Ryder below me to grab it? Whoever you are, I love you, I'm depending on you, and I really do hope you're as good as they say.