Teach me this time

I taught him the that when he runs his fingers from the tip of my fingers to the top of my arm it's called feathering. I taught him that the way he embraces me, the way he places his arm around my waist, as he rests his chin on my shoulder it's called spooning. But as he grabbed my hand yesterday, in back of the car of our friends car...when he flew a spoon of ice cream in my mouth, he taught me. As he told me that he sees himself in my words, feels like he's near me when I write, he taught me. When he took two steps closer as I took one step back...when I walked away, he pulled me in and said, "its okay to be scared...it's okay, we can be scared" and I finished his sentence by saying, "as long as we're scared together?"...as he leaned in and answered me with a kiss, he taught me. 

He teaching me that I deserve anything but ordinary. He's teaching me how to adore out loud. He's teaching me to adore myself out loud. He's teaching me to not hold back something that can be amazing one day. He's teaching me to not be scared of tomorrow when I'm in today. He's teaching me that I've been wrapped in teaching the last him(s) how to love, that I held out on loving myself. He's teaching me that while I was  praying for nothing more than to teach the last him to let himself fall, to let the "us" be natural, for love is natural, I held back my naturalness, I held back my adoration from myself. I forgot to realize that maybe I need to be taught. Please teach me everything, all the way back to step one.

It may not last, for I'll fly 46 states away from him...but for right now he's rekindling my hope, rejuvenating the school days love in me, he's rescuing me after the savings that have emptied me. So before I leave, I'm just asking for this, for the next days, for the next moments we create, the next nights we spoon, keep teaching me. Let me rest my wings, and teach me.