Because I love you, I know that your favorite color is yellow.

Not the kind of thick yellow that serves as the background of a Heinz logo,

but the yellow that paints the tips of daisies,

the yellow that blends into pink when the sun is getting tired.

 

Because I love you, I know that you are gentle.

Compassion flows from your fingertips so generously that the sky swoons.

Your kindness, makes other people genuinely comfortable.

I know this because it’s made me comfortable.

 

Because I love you, I know that you are cowardly.

Cliff jumping, public speaking, skydiving, spiders, and meeting new people

are all the same risk level to you.

Because I love you, I try to encourage you to be brave,

but because I love you, I respect your limits.

 

Because I love you, I get tired of you.

After hour number thirteen on our road trip together,

We are hungry, and all I want is space to call my own.

Because I love you, I know that you need your space too.

 

Because I love you, I know that perfect love requires imperfection,

that love and compromise have finger tips intertwined,

that a productive conversation does not involve a concept of blame,

but a level of appreciation and recognition.

 

I know all these things because I love you

and because I experience them with you.

I also saw the yellow blending into pink on that summer sunset,

and I’ve felt your gentle gaze rest upon my face.

I’ve seen you fearfully step away from a challenge,

and I’ve seen you after thirteen hours in a car.

 

Because I love you, I understand that you are imperfect.

Because I love you, I respect you.