Love me when I’m angry, and you can’t stand me. Love me when I shed all pretenses—when the tears course down my cheeks and my eyes get swollen; when my voice breaks and I swallow back all the words you want to hear.
Love me when I get childish—when I make you chase me in the park or I drape my body over yours in our small heaven by the pond and sketch patterns on your chest with my fingers while we count the stars and gaze upon the moon.
Love me when I am gauche—when I fail to choose my words and my manners lack the refinement of the lady you deserve by your side.
Love me when loving me proves difficult because I’m yours to love and cherish.
Love me with your eyes. Wrap that crooked smile of yours around me and send the butterflies in my stomach in a flurry.
Love me with your touch. Let your fingertips dance across my skin. Make me seek your warmth, your scent, your soul. Catch me when I melt. Catch me when I fall.
Love me with your lips. Brush them softly across my cheek, press them against my hair. Give me your strength. Give me your protection.
Love me with those small details that warm my day. Leave me a good morning note under my cappuccino. Wrap the scarf around my throat and caress my lips with your thumb. Wink at me when you pass me by, bury your nose in my hair, and nip at the sensitive skin of my earlobe.
Love me when you chide me. Be kind, but don’t tell me what I want to hear. Tell me what I need to. Make me a better woman, your woman.
Love me even in your absence. Show me that I’m never lonely even if I may be alone. Make me see that I’m the queen of your heart even when we are oceans away.
Love me deeply, love me madly, love me without restraints. Love me less with words. Love me more with your actions.