Ode to my lover

Strawberry blonde hair brushes against my shoulder of solitude as arms, strangers to the sun, envelop mine in comfort.

Heavy breathing, teeth chattering, muscles tensing: not as a result of intimacy, but anxiety.

And his warm fingers brush through my hair softly ensuring me that it'll be okay.

His freckles congregate into a circle on his rosy cheeks as he smiles and illuminates the world with his rare sparks of joy.

The hatred directed towards him that encourages his abandonment of will to exist, comes only from his monstrous mind, for he's the only one oblivious of his true worth.

Complaints flood from his peachy lips: all valid, yet all inducing guilt and reinforcing self-hatred, which never should have eased its way into his pure heart.

Making him smile and laugh turns every depressing day into a success, overpowering life's turmoils.

Listening to songs that inspire his contentment reveals his vulnerability

and beauty.

He doesn't use the word "love" truthfully, because it's a lie;

However, when it makes it's way through my teeth, they do not deceive their audience.

For my precious friend and comforter is loved by many, by all,

And by me.