I saw the hurt in your eyes.
The first time I’d been so close—
the first time I saw past their color
and deeper into you.

All it took was the question:
“Were you ever married?”
The words you managed scarcely mattered.
Your face revealed the answer;
a precious hurt, a look I wasn’t ready for—
beautiful and sad.

There were your strawberry lips,
your smooth cheeks, and your hair—
fragile like the burning look in your eyes;
a look that made me wish
I could put my fingers on your cheek,
and carefully brush your soft hair past your ear,
feeling I could kiss you at any moment,
gentle and smooth unlike you’ve ever known.

But above all else, I wished with a fire,
I could make my eyes return your look,
with an intensity that held true ;
showing you that I feel it—
what you have deep inside,
because it’s inside me too.