I wonder* if he wonders about all the little things that make up me.
I wonder if he wonders about the sound of my voice when I sing, the look on my face when I sleep, and the twinkle that will spark in my eyes when he looks upon me.

I wonder if he wonders about the type of woman I will be.
I wonder if he wonders about the things that I value, the ones who are of importance in my eyes, and the ways that I love in a way entirely unique to me.  

I wonder if he wonders about the looks that hold the soul that is me.
I wonder if he wonders about the curve of my lips, the shape of my hands, the color of my iris, and the clothes I wear to dress the body to hold the soul that is me.

I wonder if he loves me,
Now, even before the concept of “us” has come to be.
I wonder if he wonders if I love him.
And I want him to know that I do.
And that I am waiting for him, the one who is waiting for me, and hoping for him, while hoping that he too hopes for me.