No other's face is more familiar, more terrifying,
Or more sheltering than hers.
Wracked with strain of her life
It contorts into many forms.

Eyes shining and crinkled at the edges like the pages of a book.
Brow smooth, even, undisturbed.
Mouth set comfortably, lips pink and chapped
Uplifted at the corners, revealing two rows
Of perfect white teeth.

Eyes piercing, harsh and rippling with anger
Her brow is drawn together with no hint of wavering.
Her lips appear thinner, stretched tight
Across her features. The cheeks are colored with a faint red
That surely is not blush.

Eyes spread wide in astonishment look so tired and wasted.
A sheen of sweat gleams atop her forehead.
Her brows rest high atop her head
And her mouth makes an O.
Beneath this face is bliss.
Conjured from imagination, her face undoubtedly must have
Resembled such a shocked and loving look
That first time she laid me with some
Uncertainty, hesitation, and caution just below her heart.
Atop her breast