She places her hand on his chest - this, I Know.

                                       



I barely know you , she says, voice heavy with sleep. I don't know your favorite colors or how you like your coffee. What keeps you up at night or the lullabies that sing you sleep. I don't know a thing about the first girl you loved , why you stopped loving her or why you still do.

I don't know how many millions of cells you are made of and if they have any idea they are part of something so beautiful and unimaginably perfect.

I may not have a clue about any of these things but this- she places her hand on his chest - this, I Know.

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