i wonder if they know they are beautiful.
each word they let stumble from their lips is a drop of the purest rainwater and i stand below with my palms out, desperately trying to savour the sweetness, within its oh so fleeting lifespan.
their eyes, to me, are soulful reflections of the amber earth; withered but wise, holding the weight of the world behind their careful gaze.
they are unmindful of their body, and i cannot help but wonder why when their skin holds delicate secrets within each fold, each wrinkle and crease a result of stories untold.
in this fascination i urge to be an explorer, to lay my own hands upon their velvety flesh and delve into a universe unknown.
i long to smooth out the crinkles next to their eyes with a gentle touch of my thumb, to place my head against their chest and hear the heavy thud of their heart.
i go so far as to imagine the taste of their lips against mine, as a slow collision of warm honey and the essence of vanilla.
they are beautiful.
i wish to whisper this revelation to them softly, like a call to prayer at the break of dawn.
they are beautiful, and they deserve to feel it as deeply as i do.