And she wrote
About the way the sky looked
At the end of the day
About the way the stars danced
When she looked at them through her telescope
About the poem she read
That made her cry
About the ocean
As it found its way to the shore
About the storm she witnessed
As it angrily shot out lightning
All beautiful things
All beautiful things

But most importantly,
She wrote about you.
About your kind eyes
And your soft smile
And the way you could talk to her
And the way you laughed
The way you would look at her
Like no one else did
You understood
All beautiful things
All beautiful things

Loving you was both ineffable and unendurable
I felt a hiraeth for your heart
As you had already set mine aquiver
Your voice sounded so mellifluous and sonorous
That it was almost nefarious
The epoch of while I looked at you
I knew this wasn’t limerence
And every day I prayed for serendipity
You were ethereal
So much so that it seemed almost illicit
You smelt of petrichor
Maybe it was just my glasses
That made you look iridescent
And made you look like you were luminescent
I didn’t need to rub my eyes to sense phosphines
When you were near me
Because although the time I got to spend with you was ephemeral
It sent me into oblivion
Because I was convinced this was yuanfen
It kind of made me feel like defenestrating you
You made me go through metanoia
The thought of you was eunoia
I guess what I’m trying to say is
I’m ******* in love with you