Invisible. That’s what they are. The things I love about me.
I don’t love them simply because they are me. I don’t love them because I find them great. I love them because they are loved by others.
My smile. My laugh. My ‘adorableness.’
I still think you’re crazy. I don’t see how you see anything good About either of those.
Just like you can’t see How I see good in anything When it comes to you.
Like your smile. Or your warmth. Or your hugs.
I really love those. Not that I tell you that. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
The way you act like me messing with your hair bothers you. Or when you have tickle wars with me. Or that you still tell me you love me even though you shouldn’t.
I only love the things about me Because they are what you love. And because I love so much about you.