Secret, sly, slow smiles. Lopsided grins. Sweet everythings in husky, hushed whispers.
Fingers reaching for mine out of mine for comfort, steadying, completion, to show that neither of us is alone. Hands I have no fear of.
Eyes that do not let me get away with being anything less than what I am. Forgiving eyes. Eyes that show me everything I need to know.
Lips that formed the words that taught me how to feel first, anything at all, then everything.
A chest to rest my heavy head on, a heart that beats out a steady and soothing lullaby. Cozy happiness, snug happiness, the perfect feeling of heat against skin.
Words spoken and unspoken. Always learning, always teaching. Always something to offer, to give in return. Never a dull moment, every second an exchange.
Reassuringly stroking my hair. Reassuringly kissing my forehead. Tender voice, tender words, tender ideas, tender feelings. Trustworthy voice, calming me away from the edge panic.
Sometimes anger or pain or sadness. Sometimes that sharp emotion that does not yet seem to have a name. Sometimes a struggle. Sometimes imperfect. Beneath the sharpness, relief for these imperfections.
Defects prove realness. Realness is the only thing of value.
