how do you know this time is for real?

because i have only ever met kindness in his eyes,

because there is nothing malicious behind the teeth 

he graces smiles with, 

no silver tongue pretending to have the answers, 

only honest truths,

even when they hurt. 

but how do you know this time is for real?

because when i see his name on my phone

my heart still bounces on its heels 

in anticipation. 

because the laughs bubble out of his chest

and echo off glass panes 

and they’re not the only thing trembling from it. 

because if anyone was a walking definition, 

it would be him,

and the term would be “precious.”

he is obsidian, 

strong and solid, 

graceful and beautiful, 

even unpolished. 

left perfect from the earth

where the scars add to value. 

but how do you know it’s real?

because i have only ever thought

of forever 

when i look into his eyes.

there’s a deep recognition,

maybe from a past life, 

where it’s obvious i’m meant 

to stare at those eyes 

until mine close 

for eternity. 

i know this is for real 

because i have never doubted 

that when dawn breaks over 

the homestead, 

and the first rays of morning crash into lace curtains,

that he will be there. 

because he told me there’s no where 

he would rather be

than in my arms. 

that is a promise for eternity.

there is no breaking something that strong.

and i am looking forward to it.