He treasured every inch of her skin As if he was responsible for putting together her body structure and curves Every detail was well thought, a result of numerous hours of unsharpened pencils and sketches He has done this before, maybe even to the point that every stroke became less and less meaningful When he wasn't preoccupied, leisure consisted of admiring buildings, edifices and towers that touched clouds and reached skies He contemplated and wondered if he would ever come up with a design, so great that it would represent perfection During nights when he would close his eyes, He imagined a bare lot with overgrown grass, enclosed with trees He pictured the process of construction, men moving back and forth, drenched in sweat, And heat that showered on them like hovering bees He never knew what perfection looked like, no matter how many times he would lie in bed at night with closed eyes But she came to him like an idea, an inspiration that walked through the door Yet he did not recognize that perfection looked beautiful in lavender Nor did he know that she loved soft rains and ice cream during winters He did not acknowledge such existence until she tore down her walls for him And she became his favorite sketch, a structure he would always keep building An assembly of the most appealing interior, countless hallways and staircases A concept that needed more explanation and could not be written, spoken or expressed as blueprints She became his favorite design, and a treasure he valued way more than any of his work