you say you hate your eyes. nothing special, nothing to write home about. why am i writing, then? why can’t i stop dreaming of the way you look at me? a brown so encompassing it could swallow you whole, and i wish it would consume me.

you say you aren’t sure if you like the lip stain you’ve meticulously applied. it’s not the right shade, you don’t think it suits you. i sit and wonder what it would look like staining my cheek, my lips. i stare, hoping you won’t notice the stolen glances.

you say you don’t think you’re strong. that there are people stronger. i wish you could feel the way my heart skips a beat when i see your bare arms and broad shoulders. i can’t help but imagine your embrace, lifting me off the ground. maybe i just watched dirty dancing a few too many times growing up. maybe you could be my patrick swayze?

i say i love your brown eyes, golden like the best sunsets and dark like the bark of a pine tree. i say i love your lipstick, perfectly applied or smudged from the day, in any shade. i say i love your body, towering and warm, with the fortitude of a mythological hero. this is how i say i love you.