Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

PROSE POETRY

The Way You Love Me

I like talking to you.

Not just because of the words we exchange, but because of the way your voice wraps around them — soft, warm, like the first sip of coffee on a cold morning. There’s a rhythm in the way you speak, a cadence that settles into my bones, making me forget the weight of time.

I like it when you smile, really smile, with all of your teeth showing, as if the world itself couldn’t contain your joy. It’s not just the curve of your lips but the way your whole face participates — the way your nose scrunches slightly, the way your cheeks lift like they, too, are pulled into your happiness. And your eyes — oh, your eyes — they narrow just a little, covering those tiny pupils, as if they, too, are laughing, as if they know something about the universe that the rest of us are yet to discover.

I wonder if you know how beautiful you are in those moments. Not just in the way that people define beauty, but in the way that makes the air feel lighter, in the way that makes the world seem kinder, softer. I wonder if you know how rare it is to find someone who carries light so effortlessly, like a secret kept between you and the sun.

I love the way your presence lingers, even after you’re gone. The way your laughter echoes in my mind long after the sound has disappeared. The way the…