I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
I’ve stopped believing. Not in some depressed I’m-gonna-cry-during-my-toast way. Not in a way I even noticed until tonight. It’s just, everyday I think I believe a little less and a little less and a little less and that… sucks.
How I Met Your Mother
And I’d give up forever to touch you~