Please go: It pains me when she tries to be authoritative. It's worse than when she's being passive, because then I can withstand what normally greets my lips everyday - if not, it's discomfort and squares in circles, jelly in sand.
So I hold her hand and bring her to the places she otherwise would not go. And I look at myself and she's so sweet inside my eyes, and in my chest, behind my knees. It's a cushion, and a design on top of it; dainty, directive, and daunting.
Because it's wrong, it's all all Wrong, wrong. If you say it enough...it won't make any more sense. And I can't make sense of it, although I try, and I reason with myself, forgetting her. And then,
Oh, how he makes my day: It's always embarrassing and uncomfortable when you rub their open facing tummies in broad daylight like this. He doesn't want it, and it's worse than when he's being miserable. It's, I guess it's normal.
And the smiles, they come and what he wants - it isn't as if you care, but it's just okay because it's making you a little bit happier, you're actually becoming more comfortable. He smiles for comfort sake, and so do you, and we're very comfortable with each other.
Congratulations to all, myself included.
