That Dimple In His Chin

I can look into his eyes
But I choose not to.
They tell too much,
Despite the dark tint that holds his secrets.
I want him to keep his stories.

I can trace my fingers along his ideal mouth,
But pull away due to the contradiction that emits from his lips.
Just for a moment I want to sit in silence.

I want to have the chance to rest my head against his chest.
But there’s the overwhelming tap dance playing against my ear.
It keeps me awake. 

His arms are the epitome of shelter,
Surrounding me with familiarity and care,
But at the same time feel like gargantuan bear claws.

I can nestle my cheek against his baby-soft skin,
But often times feel the rug burn of his newly sprouting nest.
It irritates more than the surface.

But as I stare within that dark shrubbery landscape,
I find that familiar trademark buried within,
That I found so adorable when I first saw his face.

His eyes may reveal too much,
His smile may be too distracting,
His arms may crush boulders,
But there is something flawless in that dimple in his chin.
It’s the perfect counterpart for the dent within my cheek as I smile. 

Those dark pools will hide more stories as the years go on.
That pearl smile will tarnish and turn to an antique gold.
His strength will weaken with age.
But one thing will remain timeless,
That darling dimple.