Good & Fond

When you find an essence that is so raw and pure that it is just plain good, how do you begin to put that into words?

“Good”- It sounds so average. Mediocre. ‘Good job’ Not excellent or brilliant or perfect. Just good. But that’s not what I mean at all.

He is good.

That is the only way to describe him.

But it’s not enough.

I don’t mean good in the plain old sense. I mean pure, not evil. Not threatening. Not manipulative or cruel. Just…good.

There is not a single ‘bad’ bone in that mans body. That I am near certain of.

I wont spout nonsense of me falling for him or of being in love, I’m not certain it’s that.

But I am fond of him.

I’m fond of his eyes and the way they shine for me. I’m fond of his smile that is as rare as true happiness. I’m fond of his body. The perfect curves and edges that make him seem to have been carved and crafted by a artistic prodigy. I’m fond of his hair and the way it feels when my hands run through it. I’m fond of his lips. How they can find mine in the dead of night, 4am and there he is wanting more.

I’m fond of his mind. Of how, broken it may be, it tries to mend my fragile own. I’m fond of him with his countless quirks. The way he laughs. The way he recklessly abandons his belongings on my floor just to climb back into bed with me, to hold me. I’m fond of his hands, how they fit perfectly and welcomed in mine.

I’m fond of his style, how although it’s far from my cup of tea, it’s him and couldn’t be more perfectly him.

I’m fond of the way in which he is fond of me.

I’m fond of him.

 

 

 

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