You aren’t sure when the way he looked at you began to change. His eyes no longer held the same warmth for you as they once used to. His eyes would shift to look behind you or unfocus to see through you when you asked about his day. He stopped looking up from his work when you walked through the door. He no longer glanced at you as he climbed into bed when he had decided that the couch was giving him too many cricks in his neck.

You aren’t sure when his hands stopped holding you. There were no more light touches to the small of your back as you made a quick breakfast. The tips of his fingers no longer trailed lightly down your arm as he placed a kiss on your shoulder. He no longer held your hand tightly to keep you next to him on a crowded sidewalk; no longer tugged you into a passing shop; no longer let you to sit on his lap; no longer pulled you gently against his chest to feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

You aren’t sure when his lips ceased to speak to you. He stopped shouting behind you to have a good day as you rushed out the door to work. He had long since stopped tilting his head down to kiss your forehead as you sat to watch a movie nestled into his side. His lips no longer parted to smile when you appeared before him. His lips no longer whispered your name in the quiet of the night.  His lips no longer said to you, “I love you.”

It had started when he held her gaze for a beat too long. Now, his eyes only looked at her. His eyes held such affection for her that you had once been familiar with. He stared fondly at her as she talked about her day. He now found every excuse to look up from his computer screen when she arrived home. He never took his eyes off of her as they moved as one in a tangle of sheets.

It had started when his hands reached out to grab the same coffee cup as her. He now placed his hand on the small of her back as they danced slowly around the room. His fingers trace patterns on her side as they lay next to each other on lazy mornings. His hands are reluctant to let go of hers as she leaves for work.

It had started when his lips moved languidly against hers in the cold alley outside of a club. His lips leave a trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbones. His lips spread into a grin at her jokes. It is now her name that he chants when the world is sleeping. It is to her that his lips now say, “I love you.”