The way you chew on your fingertips while you drive.
How you stare at me when I'm trying to make a point and you don't care.
That slack, dumbfounded look you wear on your face when you're absolutely absorbed in whatever you're watching.
That laugh you make when you think something is really funny.
The crease you get in your brow that only shows when you're annoyed with me.
The stupid voice you make when you imitate me. That does not sound anything like me.
Your backwards, loopholed, Pig Latined logic that make 'I Love Lucy' episodes look boring.
Your endless complaining while I pack and how you feel the absolute need to sing "Leaving On A Jet Plane" when I start to zip up my bags.
Those stupid little thing you do that make me want to strangle you, kiss you, smack you, jump you and *blank* your brains out. These stupid little thing are what I love so much.
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It's joy. It's ecstasy. It's truth. It's destiny. Even love is not enough to tell you how you make me feel. It's faith. It's honesty. It's life. It's everything. To say, 'I love you,' is not enough to tell you how you make me feel. There's only one word for this: it's bliss.
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