He called me beautiful.
Not my face.
Me.
He said even if he was blind,
even if the sun had burnt out long ago,
he would still see it.
He said my soul was a garden
and I told him that when he was around
it was always spring.
He said he wanted to read me
like his favorite book
but I was written in a language
he couldn't read.
But he liked challenges.
They gave him peace of mind.
He did one right before he went to sleep each night.
