I am trying so hard to figure you out.
I stare at your face while you are sleeping. I pull out the fold of your ear so it doesn't flatten down after you've laid on it. I think about your ear for a good ten, twenty minutes. I really do. I obsess and I cry over it. I brush out your hair so it will be straight. I stare at it like it has the answer to life - has it gotten any lighter? Longer? Is it curling? Or does it just need rinsed? When you open your eyes I look back into them, but I'm not looking at you, I am trying to figure out if your eyes have changed colors yet, or if they will at all.
Who do you look like?
What are you thinking?
To whom do you belong?
I can see the top of your head. The folds in your neck. The tiny fingers holding onto my shirt and then relaxing, like you trust me, like you know I won't let you slide off my stomach.
The only time I am at peace around you is when you smile in your sleep and I refuse to blink. I refuse to. I open my eyes as wide as I can and memorize every ounce of your open mouthed grin. It's the only time I relate to you. When you smile.
Who ARE you?
You're not my baby.
...Are you?
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