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This moment

  There is this moment, somewhere between his second to last slowing breath and his first snore. I usually get a a few quiet, glorious moments of staring and touching. His face: so serene and calm. And on occasion, when I caress his right cheek, just before he sails off into dreamless sleep, he slightly will offer his left cheek for a graze.
  There is this moment, somewhere between him stripping down to his boxers and getting comfy in his chair. I beckon him with a look and he knows I want to stare. His body is for my eye's taking. I scour his every visible inch...if only for my memorization. And he quarter turns till I am done, and he doesn't flinch. It is for his health. For my pleasure.
  There is this moment, somewhere between his 4th and 5th drink. His eyes get that hungry stare. That one that can only be satiated with me. I get to kiss him. But not in the, "I love you too" way...but more in the, "I need you now" way. I mentally put away every dark blue-eyed glance. And he keeps coming back for more.
  There is this moment, somewhere between his 3rd or 4th night working 12 hour days. I am greeted with exhaustion and vulnerability. I get to comfort him. It's my arms he seeks and my lips he wants. But just for the reassurance that he is done acting some part that pays our bills. And, if I am unwilling or unable in a mental state to give him his comfort, he nudges up my chin with his head till he finds his solace.
  There is this moment, somewhere between tightening the 1st bolt and loosening the 4th. He gets this determined look of focus that means business. His bottom lips disappears into the top over and over as though his focus is only driven by the movement of his lips. And he works to complete the task at hand. And I get to watch. With bated breath, I watch the resolution come to fruition. He grew up fixing, and he often fixes us...or at least fixes my mood.
  There is this moment, somewhere between me moving my hand towards him and him grasping mine. The veins in his hands pulse with life that mean to me one thing: love...or care..or concern. Or perhaps all three. The callouses brush against mine and all he can say is how soft my hands are. He gives me comfort in the dryness and I him in the softness.
  These moments are mine. These moments are my favorite. And so grateful that I get relive them so very often. There is no one more magnificently able to love me. And not once have I been asked to be any different, nor flinch when I ask him to change. This is us learning. This is us loving. To not sound cliche but failing, I have the greatest lover that has ever existed.
  Think I'll go steal a few more moments...

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