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He asks me what I love about him, and I catch my breath, trying to put it into words. His smile, his eyes, the way the sun slants across his skin. His freckles. The golden gleam to his look when he glances up to see me staring.
The way his voice rises and falls, lulling me into its somnolent ocean.
The smell of his skin, the taste of his breath, the fullness of his lips.
His anger, just under the surface like a Halloween bonfire. The protection he offers me, even from myself and the hateful things inside me. The comfort of his hand in the small of my back. The way he makes it safe to tell him anything.
The way he makes it safe to love.
How do I catch him in a word, in a list, in a note? How do I pin the soul of a man to a piece of paper, and make it sensible?
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