You don’t understand.
And I doubt you ever will.
I love her,
I adore her,
I admire every aspect of her.
Even the parts of her she hates.
But I would hardly see a fault or flaw.
Her eyes spoke more than her lips ever could and don’t even get me started on her lips, the softest most gentle thing about her but don’t ever think of her as gentle.
She’s had men begging at her knees for a glimpse of her centre, her purest form, her most genuine self.
I could never quite get how she made me think I was worthy of her attention but I still think of her as home.
Like she knew I was destined for better and she could get me that.
I spent most of my 3ams laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling thinking of her.
And her voice.
And I’d close my eyes.
I can’t think of a word to describe the way she would have me so at peace with myself for those few seconds I needed to fall asleep.