Tenderly you’d kiss me,
lips pressed against my forehead,
sometimes brushing my hand,
lingering on my head;
breathing in my natural scent,
filling me deep within your lungs,
loosing yourself in me.

Sometimes I’d catch you studying me,
if you were an artist, I would think you were painting me;
I’d wonder why you’d capture me with your eyes,
you seemed to follow me with your gaze,
almost like you were afraid
I’d fade.

I’d rest my head lightly on your chest,
enjoying the rise and fall of your heart,
while I quietly chatted about my day;
sometimes I looked at you
only to find you’d rested your eyes,
listening to the gentle rhythm of my voice;
and my heart would sing,
blissful harmony we were.

Now I understand why;
it’s like you knew I’d fade gradually,
just out of reach–
so you captured me greedily with your eyes;
you’d fill your lungs to the brim,
breathing me and me alone;
because you knew
soon we’d be
ending.

But now, I wish you’d told me,
selfishly I want to paint you vividly,
so when I’m lonely, you’ll always be with me–
and I want an old shirt to hug when I’m cold,
finding warmth, if only in the past;
now, I wish you’d told me,
and together we could have
filled ourselves to the brim.