I can’t point my finger at just what it is that makes you this incredible being I can’t get out of my mind. It’s everything and nothing.
It’s your name, the day and place you were born, the smile you got from your mother, the clothes you like to wear, your rather pathetic jokes and repetitive phrases, your job, the things you know, the way you sound when you speak, your emotional strength, your emotions just the way they are, your face, your hands, the way you understand me (or not), every bit of what makes you you.
You make the unspectacular spectacular. You make the plain breathtaking. You make the everyday extraordinary.
To me, you mean everything.
To me, you are incredibly beautiful.