This is the most bizarre thing- I wrote this in August. On the seventh of August actually, except for some reason, it stayed in my drafts and never got published.
I wonder if there'll come a time, when, through no fault of anyone's,
I grow used to you bringing in a cup of water before bed
and you start expecting me to pick up your toothpaste
and I figure you'll pick up the yoghurt when we're out
and you assume that I'd know better than to throw a dash of honey into something or other.
Honestly, I can't say for certain.
I can't say we won't tire of each other, that there won't be nights where I will curl up, just out of reach and that there won't be days that you don't feel like picking up my call.
But here's the funny thing, I want that with you. To hit speedbumps in the road with you; to get stuck in the middle of a highway that stretches on for ages, kick the tyre and go, "Couldn't this thing have given out AFTER we picked up the couple who was gonna be on this roadtrip with us?"
To crash into things, and throw hissy fits and make up or agree to disagree or text in the morning and say "I'm sorry".