Her.

Oh God she’s beautiful. I stared down at her face as she laid with her head resting on my chest. I traced the deep scar that slid down the middle of her nose. Other than that insignificant flaw, she was perfect.

I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew what it felt like to be loved by someone and how to love someone else. I thought I knew what compassion and sincerity and sacrifice looked like. I thought after having enough people in my life that I have loved and lost, that I would be able to say that I felt that.

But that wasn’t the case. Until this very moment, with her slumbering against me, I realized that I was so naive about everything in life.

She showed me what real love looked like. Before I met her, I didn’t know the true meaning of love, sacrifice, effort, compassion or sincerity.

She exceeded any expectations anyone could ever have. She was definitely a once-in-a-life-time kind of love. The sort that you regret letting go for a long, long time. And I will never truly grasp how I managed to keep her in my life for this long.

How beautiful she was. Her heart. Her Soul. I loved everything about her. Not just her exquisite eyes, but her character as well. I admired her for her ambition. I praised her for her strong morals and values in life. I adored her for believing and trusting in the power of herself. I loved how much she would selflessly give to others; myself especially; in all things: her time, her love… How she wouldn’t think twice about ensuring our general happiness.

How. Beautiful. She. Was!

How did I manage to get you? How did I manage to have something as beautiful as you, so selflessly love something as broken as me?

 

 

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