Beauty beyond words

I cannot remember ever calling him beautiful.
There were backhanded comments, of course (when I first noticed the curve of his lips. When I kissed him and stopped to count his eye lashes. When I got lost in his deep eyes. When I couldn’t get my eyes off his body). But they were brushed off and lost in the wind.
Is beauty when you run your finger over someone and murmur reassurances? Or is it rather when you are beyond words?

I have no idea what he sees in me nor what he is to me. If he was art or simply the frame, I will never know. Was he a mountain or simply a crater? Was he crystal or a crack to trip over? I can’t be sure but if I were to guess I’d say he was the grand canyon, because one moment I was looking over the edge and the next I had fallen in.

{And I’m still climbing out}

 

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