When he looks at me,
he sees me.
His eyes see mine,
and then beyond.
The blue of his
looks beyond the green of mine.
He sees my soul.
Not in a cliché way.
Just me.
When I think a bad thought,
he knows it.
He says my eyes darken ever so slightly
and his hand tightens on mine.
Then he shakes my thoughts away.
His smile affects mine.
And for a moment,
I know he loves me
only for who I am
and what I am.
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