The joys of loving a beautiful singer pale in comparison with the joys of being with a beautiful boy who can twist another's words and create a sort of immense beauty, his inflection casting shadows on your heart that dance and play and set you on fire. You are so lucky to love that boy, because he is that genuine beauty we search so hard for in life. He is beauty in his darkest hours, in his tightest corners, in he drunken stupors. He is the moment when everything goes silent enough to hear your own heartbeat. He is the first drop that hits your head. He is the last drop that ends the storm. He is the breath you take to steady yourself in front of a crowd, the salt you squint out of your eyes after an afternoon swim, the introduction of your favorite book, the smile of a girl just complimented on her necklace, the cake at your father's 50th birthday. He is the beautiful things, all of the beautiful things that don't make a big deal of themselves. How do you possibly love this type of boy? How do you show him all of the beauty he portrays, the artwork he creates just by opening his eyes in the morning? This is all I can do. My words are weak. I am pale in comparison. Us lovers of beauty can only hope we get to experience it for as long as possible. We can only hang on for dear life.