He stands in the kitchen
another one of his admirable traits
and I smile.
He nibbles on an infant's belly,
something juvenile for joy.
Can I help it?
No, I smile.
He turns to me now,
daring to attack with affection
with deep desire as a motive.
He embraces me,
not knowing what the relationship is
but he loves it anyway.
I wonder if he can see through me.
But the benefit of the doubt comes when he says
"I love you."
His blind to awareness.
I could say that too,
and I did.
I told him, "I love how you make me
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