Sometimes I stop and just watch
her move. As if dancing, she amazes me. A combination
of her grace
, beauty, and a lust for life
make her the most stunning subject
. There are moments
when I catch myself staring at her while she does something so mundane
that I’m in awe
of how brilliant she makes it seem. Just to watch her breathe in the life around her.
I wake up early some mornings, next to her, and watch her sleep so peacefully it seems she’ll never wake. It's that moment I can't replicate. It's nothing that Hollywood can model, or a magazine can incorporate into the thick, glossy pages that smell like perfume and plastic. It's much more intrinsic and naked.
She laughs like the most brilliant sunset over a red-stained ocean. It’s so stunning and contagious that it becomes addictive. That’s why I love to pause when we’re together, and just watch her. It’s painful. It hits me right in the chest, an aching feeling. She is...achingly beautiful. Not just stunning, gorgeous, or radiant, those are purely visual conclusions. It’s all the things about her aside from the fact that I believe she very well may be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. It’s more the way she talks or laughs. Sometimes it’s the way she cares for people, and then other times it’s something as unadorned as how she walks or shifts her weight while standing in line. It’s the way everything about her is effortless, graceful, and absolutely beautiful.
It’s something you feel so deep down in your chest that it bluntly hurts, achingly beautiful…
"...they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'" – Jack Kerouac, “On The Road”