A tall boy wearing a tie and glasses.
A petite girl in a dress and heels.
One attribute keeping him
From telling her what he really feels.

A boy with eyes like autumn
A freckled girl in blue
One word separating them
As she silently says I think I fancy you.

Someone outside is ready to accept you, flaws and all.
They are experiencing some strange and wonderful things and writing stories to tell you years from now.
They are wandering the planet in search of you.
So yes, someone outside is looking for a flawed being like yourself. Except to them you are not flawed. You are anything but.

To me, you are like peach tea and the sensation in my stomach during the first drop on a roller coaster.
You're the glittering embers in the night sky after fireworks.
Your mind is the tip of a skyscraper, so wonderfully remote, penetrating the white feathers in the sky.
Your sound is the distant rumble of a promising storm, a book page being turned, a sigh of relief.
I feel you in the pinks of my cheeks and in the crevices of my hands.
You are present in all of my favorite things and
You make my world rosy by just existing in it.

There are far too many people to meet,
So many wonders to witness,
Countless pictures to be taken,
Beautiful words to finally speak,
Fond memories to recall,
and Stories to write.

You're lovely and you're loved.
I think you're breathtaking, and I sometimes envy the beauty you don't see.
You're delightful, the way you speak and walk and read.
You're downright enthralling, and I wonder why you chose me, of all people, to read your story.
You're so ******* yourself, and I can't find the words to say how wonderful you really are.