you were expecting it to be harsh, domineering.
he's incredibly strong after all.
you know, just as a stranger in passing would know,
simply by the solid shape of him,
chiseled like a roman statue of a young god.
you weren't sure what you were expecting, anyways,
but it was nothing like this.
it's nothing like you thought it would be.
his touches are soft, tentative.
his arms do not cage you like others have before,
he accepts you,
you and your tendencies to fly away.
he simply holds you as if you are some sort of precious thing.
he holds you as if he is trying to tell you something,
in the press of his warm skin against yours,
in the way his gentle hands
push your hair away from your face.
something you'd read in a novel,
or hear in a love song.
like he is trying to write something into your skin.
like he is trying to make something known to you
that he can't quite say aloud.