Sunsets and Silhouettes

I always liked sunsets. I don't know if I've told you this already, but they're one of my favorite things. 

You took me to our first sunset yesterday, April 24, 2016. The first sunset I've ever shared with someone not from my family. I realized, after you kissed me, while we looked at the pale pinks and pastel oranges that riddled the darkening sky, that this sunset was you, and I needed to take a picture of it. I needed it photographed. 

I need it, so that I will be reminded that you aren't the dark purple storm clouds that have hovered above my skies from the time of my first heartbreak. I need it so that I'll remember you aren't painfully bright, iridescent oranges that blind me every time I fall in love. I need it to tell me that you're not the drastic, dark blue of the night sky during a storm cloud filled sunset. I need it to always remind me that you aren't them. 

You're you. You're this sunset, and our city on a sleepy Sunday when there's no traffic and no bustle. You're a different kind of sunset, and I love you for it.