("can i see you?")

your hands ghosted over my skin, feeling, touching,

you were a potter and i, your sculpture

(your hands allowed you to see what your eyes could not)

i sat still

(so still) 

not risking movement for fear you'd pull away

your delicate fingers traced a path over the structure of my face

(as soft and light as a whisper)

moving down from my closed eyes, along my nose

you laughed when you got to my flushed cheeks, a blush spreading over them as pink as the sweater you wore

(more out of love than anything else) 

you didn't know, but i heard your sharp intake of breath as your thumbs grazed over my lips

(did you think i was ugly?) 

i shifted my head ever so slightly,

 (i began to worry)

"no," 

you murmured, somehow all knowing, all seeing 

(i still wonder how)

"you're beautiful" 

(we kissed afterwards)