I do. I truly do. I have loved him since I met him. I have been addicted to his touch since I first experienced it. His gentleness has captivated me. The kindness in his eyes can melt my anger. The strength in his arms can shelter me from everything. My entire body cries when I am not with him.
When he is at his worst, I see him at his best. In his mistakes, I see perseverance. In his weakness, I see courage. In his past, I see what made him. In his future, I see all that he will become.
When I look into my heart, I see him. When I close my eyes, I feel him. While my contentment comes from within, he is my lighthouse, shining my way home.
Why do I feel this way? He has cast me aside. He has shown me his anger. He has shown me his immaturity. He has been rude, dismissive, and careless. He has been short-sighted and quick-tempered; he has been impatient and unkind.
Yet in his anger, I feel his fear; in his immaturity, I see his imperfection; in his rude, dismissive attitude, I feel his frustration. When he is careless and short-sighted, I am understanding. When he is quick-tempered, I am patient and kind when he cannot be.
Does he know how I see him? Does he realize how perfect he is in my eyes?
When I am scared, he is my protector. When I feel alone, he is my comfort. He is there for me before I ask. He knows my pain before I feel it, and understands it better than me. He guards my body from harm, and my heart from pain. He is the love of my life.
My love for him is beautiful, but my love for myself must be even more so. Why can I not have both? Why must I love myself more than him, and so not be with him? When will he see the beauty in my love, the beauty in my heart?
Will he ever love me the way I love him? Will I ever be able to love another with this perfection if he does not return my affections?