I'm back again to write you another letter because my tongue continues to flounder as I attempt to tell you how wonderful you are and what you mean to me. It seems that words fail me when I need them most and I can only put them in a logical order to form sentences when I have a pen and paper in my hand and the moment is long gone.
You once told me that you had 'nothing to be vain about' and I swear to God, when I got home I wrote a two page long list of all the things you have to be vain about (but for some unfathomable reason aren't whatsoever.)
And the thing is, you say my name as though it's a precious thing and not merely a collection of syllables and a combination of letters. I know I probably don't deserve it but I can't convince you otherwise because you continue to see me through that **** rose tinted glass.
Despite all this and the fact that my name may be an antonym of yours, it doesn't stop me from loving you and loving you more.