the way he kisses my fingertips through my gloves
the way he holds back my hair when i throw up
his feet as he kicks a pebble
the way he pays for my bus fare
the reverent way he turns pages when in a library
his smile when he sees an ice cream truck
the way he looks when he falls asleep
the way he eats raspberry gelato
the way he dresses when going to the rom
his fingers as they scribble down a thought
his voice on the phone when speaking of his mother
the pensive expression he gets when trying to decide on a video
the way his eyes crinkle when listening to my adventures
the way he strokes my hair, his fingers lingering on my arm
the wrinkling of his nose as we pass a farm
the ambiguous quality of his gentle abuse
