kissing freckles

December 19, 2012

“that’s my favorite freckle,” she says,
as she turns to another of the many freckles
she’s said that to already,
leans in, and kisses it gently.. tenderly.

she’s just as hopeless a romantic as me
-“cheesy” –some choose to call it. the kind
that leaves Love notes in my wallet
or hidden in my night stand drawer.
fills my inbox with Love songs
or stories about her day.

i nap on her bed
she wakes me up with flowers.

her eyes. her smile.
remind me, that every step towards Her
was worth it. that nothing was ever a mistake.
that i am perfect. whole. and complete.

she Loves the way i Love.
accepts my perfect imperfections
and expects me to be nothing less
and nothing more than who i am.

she reminds me. i am enough.
for me. for her. for us.

she believes in me. sees the woman
i am and Loves her.
forsight.
she sees the woman
i will become and Loves her even more.

she celebrates Me.

she is fully aware of my insecurites,
the stuff i’m working on and working out.
full disclosure from the moment we met…
she has yet to flinch.

solid and grounded. she anchors me.

and i can’t wait ’til the summer,
when the sun multiplies my freckles.

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