To The Man I Love, You Are Beautiful

I hope you see yourself through my eyes: dauntless, interesting, kind. The way the sun reflects your skin as if you were kissed by the sun-god Apollo or how you whip up ideas from your mind like you were touched by Athena. 

I love the way those lashes curl upwards to the skies as if the very gods of heavens knew you belonged there. An angel in disguise, a missing piece sometimes fallen and sometimes blessed. 

Do not hide your smiles from me, for fear of imperfection set by this world over how a teeth should look like. Making you smile is one of the greatest rewards I’d ever get and more so if I were the reason behind it. 

Do not cover your face for fear of me seeing your lines, I will kiss each of them for they make you who you are. Mine, my beloved, every line on your face tells a story of a different kind and I long to uncover each of them as years pass us by.

I love the sound of your gentle laughter, the way your hand carelessly hold mine when you sleep. The way you take my hand in the crowd for fear I’d lose my way. But you are wrong, so wrong, for this may sound like cliche but in an ocean of people I’d still see you. I know the back of your head like the back of my hand for it is where I am home. In your arms my love. It is where I yearn to be, always. 

And when I tell you you are beautiful, I hope you believe me. For never have I seen a masterpiece so perfect that my soul was drawn to yours and there it will stay, always, with yours.

My red-thread. 

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