Sometimes I wish I could read, to venture through the book that is your soul, flicking the pages at my leisure, travelling my fingers along every groove on its spine, discovering every tear, miscrossed t and dotted i, deciphering the scribbles of verses that brings our paths to cross, but alas, it cannot be, cause you've torn the sheets, and left a hollow husk, all because of an illiterate.

And if I were to give you the heavens and all of the stars within them, it would still not be enough, for you my dear, are worth a countless much more; if only you could see it so...

It's easy to forget a pretty face, but the one with the beautiful mind, whose essence captivates your very soul, how do you forget them?

Looks and possessions do not interest me, you've been indulging on the empty compliments you so often receive; being pretty, hot or sexy does not make you beautiful, show me your dreams and goals, and the effort to attain them, for that defines your character, it comes from your soul, the place where true beauty resides.

I've learnt of deceit, betrayed by my own smile, that ceases to hide, as her name resonates through the empty confines where rationality once resided, in the presence of eyes so deep; the oceans seem shallow, and lips red like summer evening strawberries before a sunset. My body conveys a message, my brain has no time to articulate the same, my heart won this race, pacing.

Those eyes show me glimpses of a beautiful soul. She feels so familiar, so intimate, I've waited an eternity to discover that mine was incomplete; without hers, completely lost in that gaze, so lost without the drowning stare of those ocean eyes, I've found purpose in sinking, in falling.