63 : won’t you listen to the man that's loving you

It was never really about giving my heart to you. 
That was never a big thing for me – I packaged it up and handed it over within days, with no ceremony, no pomp and glitter. It was yours, fine. 
There was something about you that felt so familiar, as if I'd known you my entire life, as if every atom in my body knew you already. I felt as though I had known you since the beginning of everything, and maybe we were from the same star.

The big thing came in the days when you leant over and stole my tea. 
The big thing came when you sleepily tugged me against your chest just before you fell asleep. The big thing came when I sat there, swinging my legs on the counter, and watched you move around the kitchen in your old uni tracksuit pants and a rumpled t-shirt. The big thing came when I called your bluff at poker, and you swore lustily and good-naturedly as you handed over the chocolate chips that we'd been betting with. The big deal came when you went "But then I remembered that it was you, and of course you would think it was a great idea."

The big thing came when it was midnight and I was tired - You pushed my hair out of my face and told me to stop being so stubborn and to sleep, because then you could as well.

The big thing built and built. And it wasn’t a thing; it was an explosion. It was a crescendo, a drumroll, a wailing air raid siren.