I feel past his colourless eyes and his chapped lips. The faded glimmer of happy memories, too obstructed by the scars of his story, permanent.
It's a love with the power of a storm, strong even in the absence of rain. I read past his unspoken words and uncollected thoughts, and see the incisive emotions he expresses through a fragile breath, as his current expression is just an instance of the whole he completes.