Softly

He says
he likes it best
when my hair is messy.
When it’s pulled back from my face
in a bun,
my cheeks red and
my brow glistening.

He says
he likes it best
when my eyes are shimmering.
When they scan pages
of a book,
I haven’t read and
squint with questioning.

He says
he likes it best
when my lips are parting.
When my teeth bite
at the edge;
my eyes flick up
to meet his.

He says
he likes it best
when I am tired and sweating.
When I climb onto his bed and
rest my head.
His heart pounds and
I fall asleep.

He says
he loves me best
when I am in sync with his breathing.
When my eyes are dimming and
becoming heavy-lidded,
his pulse is harmonizing
and I’m smiling.

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