Thoughts

I Can See

In his skin, I smell my own fear.
In his eyes, I can see my own vulnerability.
In his touch, I can feel passion.
In his kiss, I can taste the heartbreak that hides behind it.
In him, I see all my own pieces. I am scattered because I have given him every broken piece I have to offer.
And he happily accepted.
He doesn't care if I'm broken, and he says he wouldn't love me if I was perfect.
"Flawed is perfect."
That's what he tells me.
I believe every word he says, and
the rush is worth the heartache, even though I can see how it all plays out.