I Think I’m in Love With Love

I don’t think I’m in love with someone. I think I’m in love with the idea of being held softly. Of someone laying on my chest while I read a book neither of us are paying attention to. A quiet TV in the background. Her hand finding mine without thinking about it. I want late night conversations about everything and nothing. I want someone who tells me when life hurts, someone I can stay beside without needing to fix them. I want to wipe tears from tired eyes, brush hair behind her ear, feel her breathing slow down because she feels safe with me. Maybe that’s all love really is not fireworks, not grand gestures, just the soft feeling of not carrying life alone anymore. And maybe that’s why my chest aches sometimes, because I miss something I’ve never even had.