Her face... speaks

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About my wife 25/4/16

She is pure gentleness.

Kind eyes,

Warm heart.

Beautiful smile

displaying her soul.

Her touch, often falling somewhere

between mother and lover,

is all things good.

 

The eyes,

almost black 

and always, always looking up at me,

like a personification of optimism,

loving,

seeking guidance and reassurance,

knowing home

when they see me.

 

The cheeks,

full like a blown sail,

soft and warm to touch,

gently, constantly begging me to kiss them,

to bury my face into them,

with her soft curls framing them,

caressing...

I live and die there.

 

Her salty tears

burn my soul

like acid.

Each one an indictment of

my wrongness,

the vicious world,

everything I hate and would destroy in an instant

to save her a moment's pain.

 

Her nose is broad and strong

and it hooks subtly down,

and I kiss it often,

rub my own against it,

loving her loving it.

Her nostrils are flared and a favourite game

is to look up them,

and laugh together like children.

 

Her lips are

full

soft

generous

warm

delicious

home.

Beautiful and always ready to smile.

 

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