Tightly is how he holds my hand.
Subtly is how I glance in your direction.
Within those stolen milliseconds I drink in every color of you my eyes catch.

The natural pink of your lips and of your flushed cheeks.
The blue, green, grey of your eyes.

I yearn to touch the yellow of your long hair, and marvel at the way it shines gold in the rays of the sun.
I love the faint purple under your eyes when you don't get enough sleep.
I even love the traces of brown under your fingernails from the earth.

Still, of all the colors and all the textures of you, the one I love the most isn't yours at all.
It's  the deep red you make me feel with even the slightest upward twitch of the left corner of your mouth, signaling that you feel my red even when I'm holding his hand.

It's the transparent recognition that you see me, seeing you.