I don't remember what it feels like to be touched in the most sensitive ways and not cringe

And not because the person I've chosen to rest my head beside at night doesn't check all of my unspoken boxes

Like blue eyes, preferably. The kind that dive into your soul when they gaze at you, like you're the only girl they've ever seen

Or a contagious smile and an infectious laugh. The kind that is boisterous and care-free and loved in every endeavor

And caressing hands that could make even the most pious melt

I don't cringe because his voice doesn't sound like home
Like walking through the front door after a wearisome day

Gentle, yet firm, in his...