A wave rushes over me when he smiles, yet I can breath better than I have in years.
I can't quite explain the why's to him, or myself for that matter, but I feel they'll work their way into the equation.
Like right now, I'm laying here writing about the man sleeping next to me. Instead of wrapping my arms back around him, I pour my soul into words to discover what it is about his man that has me writing in the first place.
I'm not so cliché to simply say his smile, his arms wrapped around me, his kind eyes.
There's so much more to it.
Behind his smile lies truth of his past, with smiles come hurt, come pain.
It's not just the embrace thats got me, it's the way he pulls me closer while he sleeps but doesn't remember it later. The way he knows when I need touch and when to simply breath with me.

The way his moles run constilations from his ear to shoulder, while his heart beat beats life into them.