I remember when the world stopped every time she looked in my direction. I remember how rainbows used to sparkle in her eyes after showers of rain.

I remember how the sun and her skin were always in conversations and how her giggles were rays of sunlight.

I remember how her voice echoed into the silence, and how beauty and perfection would respond to the sound of familiarity. I remember how her hands touched my skin, yet touched my heart, all at once.

I remember how she would wear love over her imperfections because real is always better than insecurities, she had no business trying to make up what she never had to, to start with.

She’s beautiful. She is beautifully made and she has no competition because how does one begin to judge what they don’t understand and could never fathom, she’s raw perfection wrapped in standards set by imperfect being, and her being herself managed to do it so well that it may **** well be the closest thing that one would ever encounter that embodies the very essence of perfection!

I remember how the “I love you too” sounded because what a privilege it was to say “I love you” first to she that is the epitome of what some may call an impossibility.

I remember her like she was the part of me I longed for, and she was more than I could handle, and even so, I handled her with care, she’s still fragile, but I could never drop her, because perfection and fragility never go together, but you would never know because you’ve never known her the way I do.

I remember.