When I describe you as beautiful, I don’t only think of your full, merlot colored lips on your first day of the new semester, or how they curve into a cautious smile, as if fiercely protecting your joy.
When I describe you as beautiful, I don’t only think of the soft curls of your hair, of how they catch the rays of the sun and turn gold like summer when you stand in front of a window.
When I describe you as beautiful, I don’t only think of your rich oak eyes and the mysteries they hold, promising any answer if only I find the courage to ask a question.
When I describe you as beautiful, I think of your wind-chime laugh and how it reminds me of a clear spring day.
When I describe you as beautiful, I think of your voice, how you seamlessly waltz between languages, the ebb and flow of your rhythm as enchanting as the flaring skirt of a joyous dancer.
When I describe you as beautiful, I think of your tempered steel will, the sharpened blade of your resilience, how your passion glitters along its wicked edge. I think of your patience and compassion and affection, all of which you guard so fiercely, but have somehow decided to share with me.
When I describe you as beautiful, I think of so much more than your pretty face. I think of your whip-crack wit that always makes me laugh; and your enthralling stories you murmur so sweetly to me that soothe my nerves; and your shy flirtation that sends my heart swooping into my stomach.
When I describe you as beautiful, I think of you, of every facet you’ve shared with me; every weakness, every strength, every hurt, and every joy. Every aspect that makes you you.
And you’re beautiful.