In the Night When I Tried to Sleep
I tried to sleep until she wasn’t real anymore. Flicked off the lights. Averted my eyes from the one picture frame that I remembered minutely. Closed my eyes, but eyes could not eradicate all remnants of her.
She was lost in this world.
God, that made her so beautiful. I didn’t know “perfect” could be so flawed until I met her. Had I told her how I loved her? Not once, but many times. Although I never enunciated the actual triumvirate of words, namely “I love you”, God knows I showed her.
Was it not “I love you” when I talked her into the night, laughing and crying all the same at what silly topics she’d broached? Was it not “I love you” when I paused each minute to admire when she burst into trickles of humble laughter? Was it not “I love you” when I bestowed her all the time I had in my diminutive world? Tell me, what was it when I tucked her close to me as she limped sleeping on my shoulder, completely defenseless?
She was frankly a piece of work. I hated her from time to time, for rendering me fragile. She knew she had me weak in the knees. She must have known, because I would give anything in the world to once again see that glint of excitement in her eyes as she spoke to me.
She was a feeble soul. But she adhered to her opinions, even if her confidence often wavered. Anyone could have easily stepped on her. Delicate as she was, she was out in the open in this dog-eat-dog world. She was strong in her own modest way.
She didn’t have hair that cascaded in the wind. Frankly, her eyes squinted different sizes when she was overjoyed. She beat around the bush whenever she was nervous, and she squeezed her eyes shut when confronted with fear. She graced on her own pace, and never dared hasten to match others. She was rather annoying, but hell, I loved her. She didn’t need to be clean of defects for me to love her. I loved her for her, and only her.
And it was “I love you” when she fell asleep on my shoulders with no qualms; she was not at all afraid and she settled in her vulnerability right in front of me. That was the first “I love you” she ever showed me. Next was when she smiled. When she let me know I made her happy.
I showed her my "I love you's". I was a fool to expect the same from her.
I thought it was her "I love you" when
And in the night, I wept in my groggy state, thinking if I had another chance, I should make sure people loved me first before I loved them back.
She was lost in this world.
God, that made her so beautiful. I didn’t know “perfect” could be so flawed until I met her. Had I told her how I loved her? Not once, but many times. Although I never enunciated the actual triumvirate of words, namely “I love you”, God knows I showed her.
Was it not “I love you” when I talked her into the night, laughing and crying all the same at what silly topics she’d broached? Was it not “I love you” when I paused each minute to admire when she burst into trickles of humble laughter? Was it not “I love you” when I bestowed her all the time I had in my diminutive world? Tell me, what was it when I tucked her close to me as she limped sleeping on my shoulder, completely defenseless?
She was frankly a piece of work. I hated her from time to time, for rendering me fragile. She knew she had me weak in the knees. She must have known, because I would give anything in the world to once again see that glint of excitement in her eyes as she spoke to me.
She was a feeble soul. But she adhered to her opinions, even if her confidence often wavered. Anyone could have easily stepped on her. Delicate as she was, she was out in the open in this dog-eat-dog world. She was strong in her own modest way.
She didn’t have hair that cascaded in the wind. Frankly, her eyes squinted different sizes when she was overjoyed. She beat around the bush whenever she was nervous, and she squeezed her eyes shut when confronted with fear. She graced on her own pace, and never dared hasten to match others. She was rather annoying, but hell, I loved her. She didn’t need to be clean of defects for me to love her. I loved her for her, and only her.
And it was “I love you” when she fell asleep on my shoulders with no qualms; she was not at all afraid and she settled in her vulnerability right in front of me. That was the first “I love you” she ever showed me. Next was when she smiled. When she let me know I made her happy.
I showed her my "I love you's". I was a fool to expect the same from her.
I thought it was her "I love you" when
And in the night, I wept in my groggy state, thinking if I had another chance, I should make sure people loved me first before I loved them back.