By Anonymous

You leave at the gate and I count back from ten as I walk to my door.
I think of you at ten how you show me you love me.
Your hand on my thigh at nine.
At eight how you smile at me.
Our secret handshake at seven.
The six times we drove around the block because I refuse to go home and be without you.
At five how we said and met each halfway in everything we did.
The four times you told me you might be in love.
At three I said those magical words “I love you”.
At two I look back as I almost reach my door.
I look at you one last time as I’m about to close my door, hoping that one day I close my eyes and sleep in our bed.

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