The ways you look at me

There’s a way that you look at me

when you sit at my dining table,

right before you start eating,

when I’ve cooked something you like,

that tears my heart open.

There’s a way you look at me

sitting up in my bed, reading

when I come in the room

the light in your eyes

says, I’m yours always

There’s a way you look at me

tilting your head up

hair on my shoulder, soft and thick

your hand across my chest

when you say, I love you, Daddy

There’s a way you look at me

when we are skin to skin

your eyes getting wider

your voice a little hoarse

and you call me Daddy then, too

There are ways you look at me

and every time, no matter where

or when or why or how much

it tears my heart open, and afterward

it’s just a little bit bigger