You touch these tired eyes of mine
And map my face out line by line
And somehow growing old feels fine
I listen close for I'm not smart
You wrap you thoughts in works of art
And they're hanging on the walls of my heart

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours
And though my edges may be rough
And never feel I'm quite enough
It may not seem like very much
But I'm yours 
       

I step out onto the floor and smile brightly as his arms slide around my waist easily. I know now probably isn't the best time to think this sort of thing, but I still can't believe I'm here, with him, of all people.     

I've never been able to figure out just what he sees in me, what holds him here. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen with these blue eyes that would bring even the strongest woman to her knees. He's gentle and kind, and my friends all adore him. Granted, he's not perfect, but he's pretty damn close.    

I, on the other hand, am the epitome of average. My hair refuses to be styled, no matter how much product is in it and my eyes always seem to be their usual dull brown every time I look in the mirror. Even my ivory gown hasn't made me spectacular in any way. I'm still just me.    

And, for reasons I'll probably never know, he loves me.     

I'm sure even our friends and family in attendance here can see the vast differences. And, it's not just the physical stuff that sets the two of us apart.    

He's so much smarter than I am, not just intelligence wise, but about the world in general. His work has given him this uncanny ability to read people, to sense a lie from a mile away.     

Not to say I'm an idiot or anything, but compared to him, I'm mediocre in every way possible.    

But, it's never seemed to matter to him. He loves me, even though the entire world knows he could do better.    

The song, our song, finally comes to an end and our first dance as a married couple is over. He smiles down at me and presses his lips to my forehead and all I can do is smile back at him.    

I may not be much, but I'm his and nothing in the world could make me feel more important than that.

****************

You healed these scars over time
Embraced my soul
You loved my mind
You're the only angel in my life
The day news came my best friend died
My knees went week and you saw me cry
Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours
And though my edges may be rough
And never feel I'm quite enough
It may not seem like very much
But I'm yours
    

I hang the phone up and before I even realize it, I'm on the floor, my head resting in my hands, while the tears flow freely.     

This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm not old enough for this sort of thing yet. This sort of thing only happens to old people.    

She rounds the corner a minute later and I hear the sharp intake of breath as she crouches down beside me.    

"Jus? Baby... what's wrong?"    

"Trace... is...gone." I choke out as he arms wrap firmly around me.     

A heart attack.    

A fucking heart attack killed my best friend.     

And all I can think about is how weak my wife probably thinks I am now. I always swore to myself I'd never cry in front of her. It's my job to be strong for her and I have been, all 20 years of our marriage.     

50 year old men don't cry, damnit.     

"Oh Justin..." She sighs sadly and I can almost guarantee she's in tears too.     

"Don't... I already feel like a pussy." I mutter and shake my head.     

She jerks away from me then, her eyes wide with shock. "What? Why would you even... what?"    

"Oh come on... I'm sitting her crying like a five year old... "    

"And?" She laughs lightly and shakes her head. "Your best friend just passed away Justin... how else would you react?"    

"I'm not... I'm supposed to be the tough one."    

"Not right now." She smiles. "Justin... it doesn't matter, alright? You're still the most amazing thing in this world to me, crying or not."    

I know she's just trying to make me feel better, but it's not working.    

Our relationship has always been way out of balance. I don't deserve her, never really did. I thought I was dreaming when I proposed and she actually said yes.     

I've never been the real mushy type. I don't like talking about my feelings, and I probably don't tell her I love her anywhere near enough, but she sticks around.     

She told me one time that she thought she wasn't good enough for me, and maybe it was a little cold, but I laughed at her. I mean seriously... how the hell could she think that?    

I mean, ok fine... yeah, I'm the bread winner, but what does money have to do with it?    

No one in the world could be as compassionate and understanding as she is. She's always had my back, a hundred and ten percent, no matter what was going on. She's the mother of my children. She's the single most important thing in the world to me.    

But, the thing I love the most, the thing that drives me completely insane, is that she has absolutely no clue how gorgeous she is. She's always seen herself as this plain Jane type, but she's dead wrong.     

She's the most beautiful woman in the world, and I wish I could make her see that.    

Out of the two of us, I'm the lucky one. I hit the jackpot the day I met her.

**********************

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
I know I don't fit in that much
But I'm yours
    

"Here... I got it." Justin sighs as he reaches for the pot on the stove. He grunts a little from the weight of it, but quickly sets it in the refrigerator.         

He shuffles into the living room, plopping down in his favorite chair and I can't help but smile as I watch him go.     

40 years of marriage, and he still has the ability to make me feel like a teenager.     

To the outside world, I'm sure neither of us are much to look at now. Younger people probably just see two wrinkled up figures, way past their prime. But, when I look at Justin... I still see those same bright blue eyes, the contagious smile.     

Until the day I die, I'm always going to see him as that impossibly beautiful man I married, the man who, to this day, is still far too good for me.     

But, maybe that's what's kept us together so long. We both think we aren't good enough, we count our blessings that we have each other.     

We may not be much to anyone else, but we've got each other.    

That's what's important.

"I'm Yours"-The Script