He brings me coffee in bed
On Saturday mornings
With just the right amount of creamer in it,
And the aroma lingers in the air
Like a promise to do the same thing again next weekend.
He listens when I sing,
And chimes right in with his own smooth baritone,
Even though I am half tone deaf.
He knows how to rub my back
Right where it hurts the most—
Like he can read the pain in the lines of my body,
Like my limbs speak a language only he can understand.
He knows how to bring laughter from deep within me,
Even when I’ve had a horrible day
And laughing is the last thing I feel like doing.
He pulls it from me
Like a clown drawing handkerchief’s from a bottomless bag,
Until there are tears running down my face
Like small salty rivers.
He knows how to quell my shaking
When I feel like my earth is quaking
And crumbling all around me.
His strong arms hold me together
When I feel like I’m falling apart.
He sees me as I am,
I wear no mask, build no facades before him,
He sees my naked soul bared before him
With his clear blue eyes—
Vulnerable, soft, timid, and loving.
There is no pretending with him,
He knows my very soul.
Together we are a piece of cloth,
Woven together seamlessly,
Threads intertwined like our
Fingers laced together
Palm to palm.
We are held together tightly,
Each making the other stronger
And more complete.
