He fell alseep to the sound of my voice
he claims that it soothes him
Even when I trail off about simple things like the sky
or the library or the color of my blouse
I recognize that it wooes him
The places we visit, I describe in great detail
he sits quietly and smiles to his feet
An unfamiliar scent that he reaches to inhale
He asks what's that and is it lovely like me
He insisted on taking me to see a movie on our fifth date
but I didn't miss the tears as he sat there and listened
Sometimes he gets shaky when I come home too late
he doesn't know my looks, but he knows my voice glistens
He hasn't met my eye
but he knows they're my mother's
He doesn't recognize all the pity stares
or the muscle that follows my big brothers

Maybe love is blind
and maybe he is love.