When you have a fight with your significant other, it can be one of the scariest things in the world. At least to me it is. I know his past, I know what’s happened between him and past relationships.
I have never feared him.
He doesn’t behave the same towards me as he has others. Not even his family. I’m treated better than he treats his own family.
He, by no means, would be considered gentle in absolutely any way. But, with me has never been anything but gentle.
He is hateful, and angry, and he doesn’t care who he hurts or how others feel.
Except when it comes to me.
He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t raise his hand. He stops, looks me in the eyes and we become the only two people in the world. He strokes my hand so gently it sends shivers down my spine. He whispers such sweet words I feel as though I’m on cloud 9. He asks how I feel, what I want to do, if I’ve ate that day.
He knows what I want before I want it. He goes the extra mile for me, that he has never done for anyone else.
He is mine. He’s my sweet baby. He’s my lover. My best friend. I’ll never love another, the way I love him.
He’ll never know I wrote this post.