I love her.
I love her smile, the smile of an angel crossed with that of a baby, not the ugly kind.
I love her chubby cheeks, the thin soft lips.
I love her hair, I'd give my left arm for a chance to smell it.
I love her little rounded nose, I love kissing it.
I love her eyes, they resonate sunshine even when they are tired on some very dark days in my life.
I love how she smells, not her cologne, her.
I love her touch, takes me to a different place.
I love her chest, I rested my lips on them once and can't help but think of when i can do it again.
I love the way she holds me, makes me feel like the most loved person in the world.
I love how she looks at me, I am the most important person in the world when she is looking into my eyes.
I love the way she moves, her little feet carrying a chubby frame.
I love her being, the strength she carries with her.
I love her compassion, how she uplifts those around her.
I love the fact that I got to know her, to hold her, to love her.
I love that I know she loves me.
She makes me feel alive.
"I have no idea how it happened. It just did." This is what I keep on telling myself. It's a lie. I know why I love her.
I love her cause of who she is. I don't think there is another explanation. It's difficult to find love. We find lust, desire, want more often than we need to. Finding someone I can connect with emotionally is infinitely more difficult that getting laid. She makes me feel at home, when I talk to her I am alone with her. She is my loneliness. And I love being lonely.
I love her, that's all I know. That's all I care.