Wednesday, December 10, 2014


She understands. 
She understands me.
She accepts my worst and loves me anyway.
She tells me my worst is still someone else's best.
She pushes me in every good way.
She holds my hand and makes my heart tingle.
She still kisses me gently.
She calms me.
She reads in bed and touches my arm without knowing that she's doing it.
She fake screams when she wants to be dramatic. 
She makes me giggle.
She is funny - like Kev Hart funny.
She is sexy.
She steals my T-shirts to sleep in.
She's beautiful. Period.
She's smart - wicked smaht (Boston accent).
She lets me in.
She loves to be wooed and to woo in return.
She shows me her most authentic self.
She lets me be me.
She gives -- oh, how she gives, to everyone.
She's a self-deprecating spin doctor when someone tries to pay her a compliment.
She talks tough but is actually a big softy.
She loves.
She loves me.
She loves me tender.
She is the girl.
She is the girl I waited for.
She is the one.

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