There’s a sense of security in the center of your hand. The intricate lines that cap off your fingers and the lines that trace through the center of your palm lead me back to that safe place. I can see the remnants of the scars on your knuckles from that day you let out anger because the world seemed to fold right beneath your feet. I see the hurt in your eyes when you laugh because laughing didn’t always do the job of masking the pain, still it seems to find its way into the joy you have now. I can tell when you ask me for a hug that there was a time you asked and didn’t get the embrace that you did so need. You made me promise to you to be there when you need me and I thought that was a common courtesy pledge you signed when you let someone into your life, no matter how far you let them in. I almost hope to myself that I can catch that smile of yours just once more before the end of the day, or I can hear that laugh of yours that could make its way through a crowd of screaming people. I don’t know what it is about your touch but when your head lies on my stomach I don’t want you to let go and I want you to pull me closer than you have anyone before. You make me forget about the past lovers who told me I was the only one when I knew I wasn't always the one they came home too.