Don't you realize you are beloved?
By none other than me?
I wonder if that's a curse on your part, but it is a blessing on mine.
Is it a mistake that our hands find each other naturally in the sweetest moments, after your lips have graced mine with their touch?
Or is it a mistake that we talk for hours on end, but yet we both hunger for the final quiet hug outside my door, lasting only two minutes but feeling like two years?
The fullness of you, your warmth, your scent, cannot be replicated. Nor can the feelings I have for you.
I was always skeptical of it, and I hardly dare to speak the L word, but I'm sure that it applies to you.
It is only one word for what you are to me, and I pause to wonder if I am one tenth of that to you.
If I am, I am impressed.
I know you are not perfect, but I still love -gasp- you anyway.
I know you have made mistakes, but I still...l-love you anyway.
I know that you will eventually leave me, but I still...oh screw it..
I still love you anyway, beloved.