When you lay there in the moon beams, holding her, watching her eyes dance behind their shimmering lids, do you ever stop to think that other men have held her, watched her, been transfixed by her unique and entrancing beauty? When you caress her soft cheek, feeling the need to keep her safe, do you know that that has once been someone else's duty?
As you you bend to kiss her temple, trying your best to transfer some of the adoration you feel, do you recognize that that temple has been kissed just like that before? That others have adored her like you adore her, and if the world has its way others will come to worship that smile you adore?
When she twists into your arms, resting her little cheek upon your chest, tangling her fingers in your shirt, holding onto you to ground her, pulling you in to save her from drifting to the other side of the bed, do you stop to respect that she chose you? She may have chosen them, but did they feel immensely grateful when she began to drool on their favorite shirts, like she's prone to do?
Have you begun to suspect that being in her life is a privilege she only gives to some? Do you think a position on her right side is easy to obtain? Do you realize that between high standards and pain she has become a little numb? But here she is tangled up with you, safe and warm from the rain.
