Loving this particular woman

I'm not certain how to write this or what to write

How do I express how you make me feel, how you make me hurt, how you make me blush, how easy just being is with you?

Rarely do I have to explain me and yet when I want to, I feel as if I were the only man in the world.

But you're here and then you're not

It's getting time to leave.

And so I thought if I looked closely enough I'd find something that would make you ordinary, something that would make leaving easier.

But I still look at you and think,

'there you are'.

Even more so now than then.

Even more so now I actually see you and all your flaws

The wrinkles, and the folds. The stripes and the ungroomed hair. The habits and the insanity of your personality. The green of your jealousy and the ugliness of your suspicion.

And yet... all of that and I still love you...

I love...

How you notice me noticing.

How you let me want you.

How you let me know it's ohkay without ever having to say it.

You are... gravity to me. I'm pulled towards you and yet... as I collide with you. You are so yielding.

There isn't a word for it and all the phrases feel wrong

But it's... extraordinarily intense and you make me someone else.

Someone I don't recognise

A stranger holding out a bowl with both hands going,

'I'm excited to see you'

'How does my outfit look?'

'Thank you for letting me have you'

I'm a sucker for your approval and you know this.

But I don't love an abstract woman.

I love you.

I love the woman who leaves her lips chapped and doesn't seem to notice.

The woman whose hair grows where she lets it.

The woman whose palms are rough.

The woman who can be difficult and jealous and suspicious and just absolutely impossible.

Oh dear Gawd.

I went searching for your flaws because I thought if I found enough of them I could finally make you ordinary and make myself leave.

I couldn't.

Every flaw became another place I knew you.

And it fucking scares me.

Because I don't have to imagine you anymore.

I know you.

I've seen you beautiful and I've seen you difficult.

I've seen you soft and I've seen you oh so very cruel.

I've seen you give yourself to me and I've watched you take yourself away.

Time and time again.

I've listened to you say one thing and I've felt myself feel something different in what you did.

Different from what you said.

And somehow the second one never erased the first.

You're here.

I have you.

Your hand in mine, your voice in the room. Your eyes on me, your smile when I finally make you laugh.

And still... I cannot really have you.

Maybe that's why I keep asking for the little things.

Your opinion. Your attention. A smile. A compliment. One more minute. One more look.

I ask because they're yours.

And I'll take a little piece of a world I know I cannot live in and call myself lucky

until I can't anymore.

I want the lights on.

I want to take a good look.

I'll never know when it's gonna be the last time.

I don't know if that's love.

I don't know if it's longing

or some particularly beautiful form of self-destruction.

I only know that when you look at me I stop asking what it is.

I only think,

'there she is'.

I love you

and you don't have to say it back.

I love your arms and your feet.

I love the parts of you you seem not to notice...

or are insecure about.

You know I do.

I see you.

I see all of you.

Even the burden and the uncertainty of the future you so stubbornly refuse to think about.

I love you for exactly who you are.

It is tragic......... You're still leaving.