The tendency to let things
Slip through my grasp
Is far too high-
Especially when it comes to
Love granted.
I like to believe that
I love love,
But I don't think I do.
What I love,
Is the way he looks at me
When I speak.
The way he speaks
When my mind is blank.
I adore
The way he asks me how I feel
And actually cares about the response.
The way he is attentive
To the things I ramble on about.
I cherish
The way he touches me,
Deliberately, but not harsh.
The way he kisses me,
With longing, but not lust.
I hold onto
The moments we share,
Even if they may not hold the same meaning
To him.
Because to me,
He is perfect,
But he's been hurt too many times
To know that there are people
Who are afraid of love abandoning them,
Afraid of love betraying them,
Afraid of love.
Too hurt to recognize
The people who can look at him and see
What he offers,
Not what his shortcomings are.
I know because I've been where he is,
And I know it's harder to move on alone
Than together.