He would watch with his tender eyes.
Almost misting, sometimes.
Almost smiling, sometimes.
I think I mistook tenderness
seeing it as his love of me.
However, he was not tender.
The look covered the lies that
he did not want me to see.
He melt my brains with the look.
No tenderness, just pity
for my ignorance.
"Ahh, she knows better."
But we all grow and see.
Now, I look with tenderness
at him with thoughts
of what he missed.