poetry · Uncategorized

I loved him…

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I loved him:

not for the way he looked

but for the way he looked

at me.

There was no judgement.

I did not feel my skin crawl,

or worry that he would find

an attribute he did not like.

His gaze was soothing balm

to my insecurities.

Reassurance.

Calming…

that warm fuzzy blanket

that comes fresh from the dryer.

My scattered pieces

reassembled.

But he didn’t see the cracks.

He saw the light daring to shine through.

and…

I loved him:
not for the way he looked
but for the way he looked
at me.

~Alfa

 

 

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