Him

Artwork by Lynn Choi
My darling man, born many Novembers ago. 
The earth has spun on its axis countless tides since you've been mine. 
Yet, after all this time, here I am still taking mental pictures of you 
—admiring as if you were brand new.

Cow lick.
Laugh lines.
Smug smirk.
Birth marks. 
Kind eyes.
Afternoon stubble.

I believe that if words had faces,
yours would look a lot like trouble. 

Quick wit.
Masculine touch. 
Deep Voice. 
Warrior spirit.
Protective nature. 
Adventurous soul. 

It's not fair how much 
with you I lose all control. 

The kind of man authors write books about.
Your simple existence creates within the depths of me an uproar,
fanning a dwindling fire that from near-to-ashes you have restored. 
You fit into the gaps in me I never knew existed, 
making me so glad that when I resisted you persisted.

My darling man, 
I never knew how much I could adore, 
I never imagined how much I could feel more, 
oh how I hope that you will always call me yours.

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