To the man whose shoulder I have come to dream of...

He tries to look through her... Instantly, he forces himself not to. He’s scared of what he might see, of his reflection in her eyes. He feels intrusive as he steals her thoughts.

 

He perceives his love as a curse on whomever it choses to bestow itself upon! That’s what he thinks of himself: he’s not good enough for anyone, he believes he does not deserve her respect, her admiration, her trust, hers or whomever’s actually.

 

If only he could truly see how much she cares, if only he wasn’t blinded by his own perception of himself! In her eyes, he is magnificent! She loves the way she catches him looking at her; she sees it as affection, almost as an older brother would look at a younger sibling. This is not the love she wants from him, her lover; no, she wishes for the passionate, soulful kind, the goose-bump kind. Her only deep rooted fear is of letting him down!

 

Again, if only he could see himself through her eyes, if only he could release all his anxiety, setting himself free and consequently embracing her love, wholeheartedly; her heart is his if he so wishes. She’s concerned that if she tells him this, he won’t understand, since for too long, he hasn’t believed that someone could love him, that someone could chose him, could pick him out of a crowd.

 

He is his own worst enemy she fears, and in a way, he becomes hers... She will love him nonetheless.