When I wrote the poem below, it was June we had been together for four months, and eight days.  Approximately.
June/Seventeenth:
No one has ever held me that way.  How did it take me until now to notice that the way you hold onto me is such a loud expression of how you feel. The way you hold me isnever wanting to let go. It’s a confidence driven by comfort and shared passion. 
You hold me as though you know me.  Whereas others held me feeling a million miles away and already gone. When I am with you, I don’t feel that I am simultaneously losing you. I have never felt that before. I am so lucky to finally know how this feels, true and real. And even if nothing comes from this in the end, these nights will be ours forever. Sometimes you just know.
A month later, (it had been a week since I'd seen you) and in the middle of a conversation that made my heart explode into a shattered mess...I asked, “What about all those nights and mornings when you held me in your bed…you cant tell me you didn't feel anything”

It was 10.48 pm on a Monday. I had tried to make my way from my couch to my bedroom but fell to the floor moments after standing. I could hardly breathe as I sat there waiting for you to answer. It took you eight minutes to say words that destroyed me for a year. An ocean of tears rushing down my cheeks, I read your reply:

“I'm not going to lie and say I did”

“I shiver, thinking how easy it is to be totally wrong about people, to see one tiny part of them and confuse it for the whole.”

—  Lauren Oliver, Before I Fall