His eyes are wide with smiles, and I wonder how I am so lucky.
I ask him what he sees in me.
He simply replies, “What others do not.”
It is late one night when I say, “You feel like home.”
He tells me that I am beautiful today
and kisses me on the forehead.
My skin enters into a waltz I cannot control
but have no desire to wish away.
I tell him he is my future, and he replies, “I’m okay with that.”
He stares at me quietly
and I feel the minutes wind
around my lungs and loop
themselves into a tingling hello
that precedes the words, “I love you.”
My insides do somersaults for days.
Everything is perfect until it is not.
I ask him to open up to me,
but he keeps me in the dark.
Once again I hold his hand,
but I know I don’t have his heart.
His fingertips pull away, and I beg for them to come back.
I catch him in a lie again and he knows
to say, “I’m sorry,” but he says nothing more.
His eyes are wide with miles, and I wait for goodbye.
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