My Star

“You’re my angel,” you said while we were driving in your car.  You had my hand in yours, and while one eye focused on the road, the other rested on me.  I blushed and hid my smile because for some reason I was embarrassed by sweet words.

To you, I was an angel.  But what words could describe how I felt for you?  I loved your smile, how your upper lip was the same size as you lower lip.  I loved the way you would walk chest first and how, when you breathed on me, it didn’t smell good or bad it just smelled like you.  I loved the way that after you held me, I could smell that scent for hours.  I loved how I fit perfectly inside your arms, and how you managed to kiss me and talk to me at the same time.  And I loved how there was no other you ever to be found in this world.

When you walked away, I missed all these things and so much more.  I missed your smile, and your walk.  I missed your smell, and your arms around me.  I missed your lips on mine, your voice in my ears.  I missed you.  And I realized something the day that you left:

 I’m not your angel.  But you will always be my star.