A love letter for him: 12 you can write

I don't know how to start a letter. So I'll start here: I want to write to you, not come up with a pretty line.

You're coming home late, I know. I left the hall light on. It's small. It's so you know I was waiting.

I almost sent a heart and nothing else. I'd rather say this: the day goes better when you're part of it.

If you're reading this on the train, smile a little. It's me. Nobody around you needs to get it.

Remember the bench, the one where we talked too long and missed the film. I'd make the same choice.

The first time you cooked for me, it was too salty. I didn't say anything. I still remember, and I like that I do.

You had that grey sweater on, pretending you weren't cold. I love the things you try to hide, too.

We got lost that day, and you laughed instead of getting annoyed. That's when I knew.

I don't say it enough: I'm proud of you, even on the days you doubt it.

Sometimes I worry you think this turned into a habit. It isn't a habit. It's you.

You don't have to be funny, or strong, or having a good day for me to love you. A tired Tuesday counts too.

If I had to start again, I'd choose you sooner. Not differently. Sooner.