That he’s beautiful when all he sees is all he sees in his reflection.
That you wish to churn out carbon copies of images you’ve cultivated nightly; staring into his eyes and breathing in his closeness.
You want to present these to him in an album so he would revel in all his magnificence, as you have, moments permitting. Because he truly is magnificent.
Despite his flaws, or rather, because of them… in addition to… you see this wonderful creature that’s crawled out of rubble who is still able to laugh and smile and love and wonder. And to you that shows strength and perseverance and a fervor to be alive which you envy sometimes. He teaches you with every triumph and refusal to give up and give in, that you’ve got a long road ahead of you if you want to reach that level of achievement.
How do you tell him that you feel foolish to love him sometimes because you’re 25 and he’s 32. He’s been married and divorced. He’s been in punch drunk love and has a child with another woman. How do you tell him you feel so insignificant to the backdrop of his past because you have nothing of the sort to offer him just yet. I have nothing to offer you besides this: me. My heart, body and soul. No insane stories to tell like you have with them for me.
How do you tell him that things will be okay and have him believe you?
I guess you don’t tell him these things. I guess you just show him.