To the girl I love

You aren't my type. You aren't supposed to be. But the way you make me feel is indisputable love. Your hair, short and blonde, showing the curve of your nape so beautifully, it's delicate yet so rugged. That little curl which covers your eyebrows, like you're modest, like you want to cover those bright eyes but the looks you give make you want to be seen by me. I know it sounds like a cliché, but your eyes sparkle brighter than anyone elses, like they're made of crystal. The clothes you wear, they give the statement of "I don't give a f***" yet you're so self conscious, yet so confident that you wanna wear a suit and not a skirt. You make me feel like I should be brave enough to wear it too, but I know I'd never look as good as you. Those clothes were made for you. No other body could fit into them more perfectly, and look so right of place. The way they carress your curves, it's like they're part of your skin. The whole package like fresh out of a box. Untouched and perfectly pristine, yet at the same time it's so uncoordinated and messy. You a perfect because you make no sense. All I can ever think about is you and how I want to see every part of you; the good and the bad. Because no sunset will ever outshine the splendour of your face, nor a star ever twinkle more than your eyes, nor the moon have as much charm in the night than you do in the darkest hours of my day, and nor will the sun ever be as radiant as you.

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