*

In rapid-fire volleys, my scant ability seeks to make you smile, and desire to live.

The hurting is not to be able to see that.

I'd lie if I said I didn't want you at my side. I've wanted nothing more and nothing less than that.

Long nights stretching into days, stopping only for the utmost need to do other things more prosaic.

Routine days of a kiss to see me through my day with the hope of another one on our return from work. The kiss that takes away the tiredness.

The accomplice glance when we want to walk away from something, or try something.

To be able to make you blush with a word well aimed. Or vice versa.

To cook for you. Stupid, but there it is.

To look after those aches and pains so specific to each one of us, and pamper you when you want it would give me joy.

But I have to settle, and I knew that long ago.

If I make you smile or think fondly of me, that's a little victory.

I won't impose my dream on you, just don't expect me to give it up. I can't.

I already saw some of it and much more.