Substitute Words

He likes my hair

The perpetual part 

That won't go away 

No matter how hard

He tries to mess it up

How it falls like a curtain

Over one eye

So he has to work 

To find 

The looks I give

He likes my smile

That half smile

The one only he gets

The one that says

I win again

He likes the color 

Of my mouth

Pink in the dim light

Of his room

And then flushed 

Deeper 

After hours 

Against his own

He likes my jokes

But better still

The fact 

That I laugh 

At myself 

Harder than anyone else

He likes my skin

Cinnamon

Dusted over amaretto

With the occasional freckle

That he counts

With his fingers

Just the tips

Gentle

Then brushes over with his lips

He always

Does this, as if

He never noticed them before

He likes my clothes

Grey tees, and jeans

Best, but better on the floor

He likes the face I make

When I’m upset

He says I purse my lips

I pout 

Sort of like a little kid

He likes this

To see me somehow

Still sweet

Even

When underneath

My skin is tight with heat

He likes my manners

And my mannerisms

My small hands

And how I try

To hold everything all at once

He likes

The weight of me

Enough to know

That I won’t

Float away

He likes the shape of me

How I consist

Of constant curves 

That fit flush 

Against his thirst 

For lulling currents

He can glide through 

Ride to 

His very favorite places

The ones he finds 

When I 

Make all those 

Telling faces

He likes to trace my lines 

He likes the color of my hair

Like coffee 

Sweet and dark he says

He likes my legs

How they wrap around 

His waist

How they look when I walk

How they shake 

When he talks 

So

Low 

Soft

Against my neck 

He likes the way I smell 

Like coconut 

And lavender 

And chamomile

He likes my irrational fear

of pomegranates

And sunflowers 

And the ocean at night

And that fact that he might

In fact more than "like"

That maybe its something deeper 

Something fuller

Something sweeter

He likes that I'm honest

About the breaks 

In my heart

About the places I'm scarred

He likes me

And it's hard

To not get caught up

To believe I'm enough

He likes our time

The space we fill

The nights we share 

The way I wear his shirt

The first 

Few minutes of the morning

Before I'm awake 

Where he takes

His time to watch me breathe

When he can speak 

His truth

Cause though I always say 

he likes

It's not the word 

That he would use

He likes it when I sleep

And though I'm afraid

I like that he

Loves me