She is the most perfect human to ever walk this planet. Beautiful hazel eyes that really have never decided what colour they want to be, an infectious smile that makes me forget about anything other than her, 5'4" with such stunning presence I forget she is nine inches shorter than me until I hold her close to my chest, breath so sweet on my skin it takes my breath away, a bosom and butt any girl would kill for because they're gorgeous, her waist so tiny I can nearly touch my thumbs and middle fingers when I clutch her sides, a mind so creative and thoughtful I could talk to her for the rest of my life, long brown hair that shimmers golden in sunlight with pure copper strands, the taste of her skin and saliva more of a delicacy than anything imaginable, an artist of masterworks with watercolours, how my fingers fit to her curves when I clutch her sides, a mind so creative and thoughtful I could talk to her for the rest of my life, long brown hair that shimmers golden in sunlight with pure copper strands, the taste of her skin and saliva more of a delicacy than anything imaginable, an artist of masterworks with watercolour or pencil that stike the heart with vivid emotion, her freckles as a sea of stars sprinkled across her cheeks. If perfect were possible, she would be.

However she denies these things about herself. She doesn't believe she is perfect. She usually has an explanation as to how she is average at best when I remark her flawless nature. Her beauty too lies in her innocence, she doesn't have any idea what she is capable of or how amazing she is, to me or to anyone. I want her to be strong because I know she is despite what she thinks or what she thinks others think. Everything about her is immaculate, and while she may be 1,047 miles away, she is worth every second of waiting. She is my blossom, my flower, my sweet pea, my fallen angel, my princess.

Where she is- that is where home is.

-V