While he sleeps, he lays there, so tall and broadshouldered, and yet so vulnerable.
He moans in his sleep, and mutters something about his leg aching. Yet he is not awake, and as I see his distress becoming more and more evident, I try to soothe him.
Incredibly, he does not wake, but still gently caressing his back, his shoulders and his head, murmuring softly in his ear that everything is fine and that he'll feel better in the morning works.
He recovers his inner peace and proceeds into a more calm, quiet, (deeper?) sleep phase.
This always works with him.
Touch me when I'm sleeping, or even just lightly step in the room, or whisper a single word, and I'm fully wake.
Later in the night I wake as he shifted in bed and is kissing my arm so softly. For a second I wonder what on earth possessed him to wake me at three AM, and again I realized he's fast asleep.
And I love him I love him
And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me.
We both knew it.
And as the years went on, things got more difficult - we were faced with more challenges.
I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He is charismatic, magnetic,
electric and everybody knows it. When he walks in, everyone's head turned, everyone stands up
to talk to him. He is like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself.
I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him.
And in that way I understood him
and I loved him.
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him.
And I still love him.
I love him.
