Sun.

The sun glints off your eyelashes in the most peculiar way, as though it's pulling gold from them, from your eyes. Your nose is defined by a soft glow, a tiny sparkle from the rays. I don't understand how metallics can enter your skin and hover right below the surface, but they do. Your skin has a pretty texture...I wouldn't tell you that for fear of scaring you with my thoughts, I don't think you wanted to be pretty. Hair sticks up off your head in weird patterns...somehow I convinced you to let me cut it. You said you wanted to look in the mirror and see me in you all the time, you wanted me to make my mark on you. Scissors seemed logical at the time, but now you look like a silly fool.
A silly fool in love.
I will never find another you.

It's not that I find beauty in ordinary things,
it's just that everything is beautiful.
Everything.