I crave every part of her, not just the smile she wears in daylight for the world, but the silence between her sobs when the night presses too heavy on her chest. I want the rawness in her breath when pain steals her voice, the anger she keeps caged behind her ribs, the secrets buried beneath her insistence that she’s “fine.” I want the scars she won’t name, the ones my fingers trace like prayers. The shame others turn away from when it begs to be held. The flicker of old memories in the mirror that still make her flinch. I want the parts of her even she’s afraid to love. Because real love doesn’t live on the surface, it digs deep, waits patiently in the shadows, learns the shape of locked doors and kisses bruises no one else knows exist. She’s been told she’s too much, but they only ever saw the outline of her being. I’ve memorized the weight in her voice when she lies and says, “I’m fine.” And I believe her, not the words, but the weight of the burden she carries behind them. If she let me, I’d carry it all. They love her like a still photograph, pretty, posed, and flat. But I love her like a novel, long-winded and tangled, pages missing, ink running into the margins. What I feel isn’t fleeting infatuation; it’s a quiet knowing, a deep-rooted truth. She was etched into the marrow of me long before fate ever brought us face to face. And if she runs, I’ll be sure to follow, not to catch her, but to remind her that she’s already home.

I love everything about you. I love every part of your body, the way it feels, the way it moves. Your hair, no matter the color you choose, flows with such grace, framing your beauty perfectly. The gentle curve of your forehead, holding thoughts both new and familiar. Your eyebrows, delicate as the whispers of the moon, arching like a soft promise. Your grey-blue eyes, piercing yet serene, gazing into the night, reflecting the vastness of the ocean. Your ears, so delicate, like works of art, sculpted to perfection. Your nose, shaped to flawless symmetry, crinkling with every laugh. Your lips, soft and inviting, the perfect place for mine to rest. Your jaw, smooth as silk, calling out to be traced with my fingers or lips. Your neck, so tender, the perfect place for me to nuzzle and kiss, a spot to savor, perfect to wrap my hands around when you want. Strong, steady shoulders that carry the world without faltering. Your arms, capable of holding dreams yet gentle enough to embrace me with warmth. Your hands, a perfect fit in mine, fingers intertwining as we hold each other. Your delicate fingers, exploring, tracing every inch of my skin. Your *******, soft and captivating, a sensual beauty that draws me in, a perfect fit in my hands. The gentle curve of your stomach, each line and contour a story of our love, worthy of a thousand kisses. Your hips, a curve of strength and power, the ideal place to hold on to. The gentle bounce of your soft ***, moving with grace and energy, mesmerizing me with every step. The soft rise of your ***** mound, perfect for teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. Your sacred space, where our rhythms blend in harmony, creating something beautiful. Your legs, long and elegant, carrying you with a poise that invites me to walk beside you. The arch of your feet, where my hands would rest, soothing away any lingering pain. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you snort when you laugh, a pure, unfiltered joy that makes me smile. Your whispers in the quiet of the night, like silk brushing against me. The excitement in your voice when you can’t wait to share something you’ve remembered. Your moans, soft yet powerful, sending shivers down my spine. I love your strength, your resilience, your ability to push through challenges with a fierce spirit. And most of all, I love that you love me, because every part of you, in all its beauty, is a treasure that I’ll always cherish.