When I See Him

He does not see what I see when I look at him.

I see a man who can make me laugh when I do not want to, a man who cares not just for me but everyone, a man who is one of the last true gentlemen in this world.

He wonders why I look at him, why I would rather see him than the scenery outside the car, or the movie we are watching.

He does not understand the endless joy it brings me to see the glimmer in his eyes when he looks at me, the way his lips twinge right before he smiles, and the way his entire face scrunches up when he laughs his whole-hearted laugh.

It may seem as though I only see the good parts, the handsomeness and happiness, but I see the bad too.

You cannot truly see someone without seeing them as a whole.

The good with the bad, the flaws with the perfection.

Everyone has imperfections, its the ability to see past these that gives you a whole view of who someone is.

So when he asks why I look at him, he will never fully believe what I mean when I say "I just like seeing you".