He holds my hand with gratitude and heroism and warms them with the truth of his breath.
You let go of my hand and left me holding onto your cold heart.
He smiles like it's time to spread the warm sheets out on the cold mattress and hopping into bed feeling at ease.
Your smile was agony and ecstasy in which I always wanted to see, but killed me the times I did.
He kisses soft sweet kisses and when I open my eyes to look at this sunlit face, I see nothing but simplicity and contentment.
Your kisses were angelic and broken for they were never promised and never a surprise, but something so soreal.
Yet he doesn't have my heart yet because you haven't given it back.
And to tell you the truth, I'm still waiting and I'd still wait.