The one who has my heart wears wide circular glasses, but they do not hide how charming his eyes are, rather they enhance them. He stands tall among the crowd, not out of machismo pride, but out of his compassion and interest for others.
The one who has my heart lets me run my fingers through his hair in circular patterns, never complaining about my need to have at least one part of my body constantly touching him.
He holds my heart the same way I hold his hand, tightly and seamlessly, as if it is second nature.
He carries my personality and my passions in his own heart, implementing them in everyday situations, pretending as if I have taught him something when in reality he had it all inside of him the entire time.
He loves me. He could give his love to countless others, yet somehow I am the receiver of such a bountiful gift. His devotion to me could satisfy small armies of girls my age who set their "relationship goals" on Tumblr screenshots of boys doing the occasional nice thing.
The one who has my heart allows me to be proud of myself for the first time in years. When I am hungry and cranky, rather than get annoyed he takes care of me, chuckling at my ridiculousness but never losing his cool. I began crying over something as heinous as the fact that I finally got to eat at 11pm after a long day, and he hugged me and massaged my shoulders as I ate.
The one who holds my heart shakes from time to time, his overflowing emotion overcoming his tiny body, and when I hold him and try to contain this overflow and shaking he doesn't push me away, he holds me tight all the while, allowing me to feel as if I am helping, even though I know sometimes his emotions are too strong for my aid.
He instills a joy in me that comes directly from the fact that I get to be loved by him.
He sends me in directions I was previously afraid to go in. I now journey into the unknown unafraid because I know his consistent love and support will always be with me.
He is my best friend, never letting our bond waiver, never allowing my petty frustration to cause our demise. He talks through every situation that could possibly harbor resentment, and afterwards, just like my fears when I'm with him, the resentment vanishes.
I get to have his heart just as he has mine, and it is the utmost privilege.
