A Love Story

Sometimes he looked at me the way I had always wanted to be looked at. His eyes would fill with a wonder as if I was a beautiful creature he never knew existed. I would often pretend I didn't notice, because I liked to be admired a bit longer. I knew he would break his gaze if I acknowledged it. So I sat and made my best effort to remain natural, refusing to ruin the moment with unnecessary interruption.
Other times, I would intentionally turn toward him. I would return his gaze and admire every curve of his face. I would notice the perceived flaws and want to kiss them all. My lips would travel across the map of his face, landing on every location of interest. He would laugh, and distract my lips from their unplanned journey by planting his against my own- keeping them in the destination he chose.
I was alway obedient to what he wanted. Knowing that he wanted me was enough and so I did as he directed and I enjoyed heeding his unsaid instructions.
I knew when he didn't want to speak. I knew when he wanted me to ask a question. I knew him like I knew math. He was factual. There were different ways to arrive to his answers but the answers would always be definite. Our love however, was more like literature- open to interpretation with many exceptions to our rules. It was beautiful at times and tragic at others but a good read nonetheless. We wrote our story each day and when I grew tired, he would pick up where I left off penning one word at a time and looking expectantly at me for approval as he wrote the next one. During those times, I'd sigh as if he were a child I'd grown impatient with and assume the task for him. He would relax then and continue to inspire me as I worked on our next chapter.
At the time, I felt I did all of the work I felt as I were the only one motivated to continue our story but I failed to realize how many times my mind drew blank and I had nothing to add to our relationship. I would quit and he would attempt to encourage me. He never let me walk away from our story.
Friends and family would tell me that he wasn't worth my efforts. They would remind me that there were ways to unleash my creativity. They would tell me about the chapters that have yet to be written because I was constantly editing the same page. At times, I would listen. I would walk away but then I wanted to travel that map again and plant my lips on select destinations of the face of the world that I knew and loved. I wanted to continue the story that was written. I wasn't ready to start anew.
There are some books that you want on your shelf. You may not read them, but you have to have access to them. He was that.
The sweetest love story...