I love you.

I look at your face.

You're blushing a bit under my gaze, but I don't mind.
There is that small smile,
that sceptic eyebrow,
that stunned blink.
There are all these emotions you felt, I felt, we felt.
Lots of smiles and lots of frowns,
all engraved on this face you own.

I love you.

I look into your eyes.

And I realise all that fear and uncertainty,
all that self-doubt,
all these insecurities.
But also, at the same time
passionate joy when you're happy
and small droplets of tears you shed from laughter,
there's a world in your eyes.

I love you.

I look at your lips.

And I see unbelieving fingertips after one first kiss
and millions of words, spoken, unspoken
and almost spoken.
Wise words
and those that made you lose sleep that night
because you wished they would not have slipped out.
And there's that smile again.
I remember all these stories you told,
and I'd listen again, they will never get old,
I'd listen to them all over again.

I love you.

I look at your hands.

These hands that grasped for every chance
and every straw
that worked so hard to build
something good
something new
something kind.
All the words these hands have written
and all they still have got to write
the children they have held,
embraces they have felt,
and strokes for each goodnight.
These hands have done so much
and will do so much more.

I am so proud of you, more than I've been before.
"I love you," I say out loud
maybe for the first time?
And I smile, because these words taste as good as they sound.
And you smile, too - there's that beautiful smile of yours.

"I love you" I say, gently and kind,
to be sure you really heard, too
tomorrow I'll say it anew.

But for now I turn and leave the mirror behind.

(2020)