Thoughts we think: Does Anyone Love Me

It just isn’t enough to hear it once, or once a day, or even once an hour. I can be wrapped in your arms a Sunday morning, 10 am light bursting in through the curtains that you made for us, our shared bed beneath us, our clothes mixed up in a pile on our floor, your nose in my hair, and I still doubt. Do you Love Me? I want to ask again. Do you Still Love Me? Still? But I don’t want to annoy you. So I’m thinking it instead.

What would it be like if I could just believe it, truly believe that I am loved, for one whole day, with no moments of doubt? Maybe every time I wonder whether I’m loved, I’ll imagine you’re thinking how much you love me.