They say the gods once sculpted beauty,
chiseling light into flesh,
carving grace into form,
but when they saw you—
they smiled and put their tools to rest.

For what more could be dreamed?
What more could be refined,
when pure love itself had found its home
within the gentle lines of your design?

Italian painter Elio Carletti defined beauty as
"a summation of the parts
where nothing is needed to be altered, added, or taken away."
And that’s you, my love.

Your eyes— In the silent poetry of your gaze,
I see my favorite view
where every look tells stories
only my soul knows how to read.
And every time our glances meet and hold,
My heart whispers that this feeling is right

Your lips—where poetry finds its meaning,
where kindness learns to speak,
a place where time itself grows still,
just to hear the sweetness you release.

Your heart—stitched together with the golden threads of every sunrise,
a love so deep, so endless,
soft as a love song only the universe knows,
that even eternity would be jealous
of the way you make forever feel like now.

And your soul—not merely shaped,
but gifted from above,
a melody where truth sings clear,
where every smile, every grace,
moves in perfect harmony with the spheres.

When my eyes find you,
time loses its rhythm,
and my heart writes sonnets in the space between your breaths,
for in you, I have discovered
the love story the universe wrote just for me.

I don’t know how to say this without my heart racing,  
without my words stumbling over themselves,  
but I have to say it anyway—because you deserve to know.  

There is something about you…  
Something in the way you carry yourself,  
the way your words linger long after you’ve spoken,  
the way your presence shifts the air—  
as if the world itself knows you are special.  

I’ve caught myself thinking of you at the strangest times.  
Not just when I see you, not just when I hear your name,  
but in the quiet moments, in the in-between spaces,  
where thoughts drift to what truly matters.  

Rumi once said,  
"The moment I heard my first love story,  
I started looking for you,  
not knowing how blind that was.  
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere—  
they’re in each other all along."  

And now, I understand what he meant.  
Because somehow, before I even knew you,  
I think my heart already did.  

I don’t know where this will go,  
I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed,  
but I do know this—  
you are someone worth knowing, worth admiring,  
worth writing a thousand words for.  

And this is just the first of many.

In the dataset of life, you’re my prime key,  
The one who links all that’s meaningful to me.  
Your love, a clean trend, no outlier in sight,  
A correlation so strong, it feels just right.  

Your smile’s a scatterplot, stars in the night,  
Each point a moment, dazzlingly bright.  
Through every regression, I’ve come to see,  
You’re the model that predicts joy for me.  

You’re my mean, my median, my mode,  
The balance in every analytical code.  
In a world of variance, you’re my SD,  
Reducing the chaos, setting me free.  

Every pie chart of my heart has your slice,  
A percentage of love, immeasurably nice.  
Your laughter’s a histogram, tall and wide,  
Frequency of happiness I feel inside.  

When life’s a null value, you fill the field,  
A completeness in you I’ve always revealed.  
Our love’s R-squared, so perfectly fit,  
A relationship bound by data-driven wit.  

Together, we visualize a future so clear,  
A dashboard of dreams, forever near.  
In the analysis of love, there’s no dispute,  
You’re my final report, my absolute truth.