He was beautiful....

I would never admit that to his face for I know he would have laughed.

Although seeing his smile as he laughs and playful tells me I'm retarded would have been worth it 

I catch myself admiring him as he sleeps next to me.

I wouldn't dare stare while he's awake, he doesn't like that. 

I am his, but he is sadly not mine.

He's so peacefull when he sleeps, so calm, so relaxed.

Almost as if he feels safe and comfortable with me.

Almost as if I'm his home as much as he is mine.

His eyebrows are the perfect shape and I'm jealous of there natural arch. 

The slope of his nose is straight, no turn up at the tip. Perfect just like him, no damage ever to befallen it.

His lips....oh those lips that use to kiss me, too long to remember now but somehow I do. Soft and thick, as they glided across mine. How they turned and molded when he smiled a genuine smile.

Makes me sad as I think of how long it's been since we last kissed...since he last kissed me. makes me guilty for the times I took his lips for granted, and didn't relish in them as often as I should have.

His cheeks...rough by stubble that looks good with or without a shave. I long to run my fingers across the roughness of that stubble along his jaw line before they get lost in his perfectly trimmed gotee.

Then you make your way up his cheeks to his cheekbones...oh....those cheekbones would put a Cherokee to shame.

His eyes, even though there closed, I know the color by heart. brown, a little lighter than normal, and oh how they shine. Perfect eyes I once got lost in, surrounded by the perfect set of lashes that I'm also jealous of.

He doesn't see how I see him, he sees a broken down thing but I see a strong man.

For all of these things make him who he is, and what I love.

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