Do you love me?

Those four words were once so hard to say with sanity. As if my mother tongue forbade me to know how it meant once. I have sat all day in the empty spaces of us; trying to find an answer without verbalizing it

So I slept on it; I waited on it; I walked on it; I dreamed about it; I accepted it;
And I meant it

And I realized; why should I ask him? Because if he loves me he would tell me. *Maybe he is not the type of guy who wander around and saying I love you—a shy one, perhaps—my mind stops thinking.

Or
He simply does—not love me?

He stared at me in a long pause and kissed me at 2 a. m
‘Do you like me?’ I asked
He stopped and bit my lip; he was not quite there yet  
Loud and clear, I have found my answer in his silence

*It's not even a hard question ******* it!