His eyes are the brightest blue, better than a shiny bright blue piece of sea-glass, but sometimes grey - the beautiful kind of grey like a fine piece of silvery grey silk in the light of golden hour.
He has three freckles that are evenly spaced, lined up on his spine like three planets surrounded by many stars in the galaxy.
His voice is deep - not husky where it sounds offensive and harsh - but the kind that makes you want to tune out everything else including your own voice, and fall into everything he has to say, or sing, or hum, or read, or laugh at, or groan to.
His hands are rough, not like the kind that makes you cringe away from the shock of being touched by uneven, flawed hands, but the kind that makes you want to trace every line of every finger. The kind that makes you want to do everything one handed just so you don't have to take the other one out of his grasp. The kind of rough that makes you fantasize about how it would feel for him to brush along your cheek, or gaze at you while tucking your hair behind your ear.
His teeth are perfect in the kind of way that everyone notices when he flashes them. That makes everyone else jealous of such shiny perfectly placed teeth. The kind that makes every girl wonder what it would be like to be the cause of his smile or laugh. That makes you daydream about how you could do so.
His lips are perfect in the way that they're not so different to the eye, but they're incredibly soft and you cant help but feel disappointed when they aren't touching you anymore. The kind that makes you want to giggle with your best friend talking about every instance that they touched, or even almost touched you.
His skin is beautiful in the way that everyone notices. It's clear, and soft, and when it (often) gleams with sweat, it does just that; gleams just in the way that books pretend is real. It wasn't, until he perfected it. It's the kind that, though sweat may be gross in theory, makes you want to touch it, feel every part of his soft, warm, story-book-beautiful gleaming skin. The perfect in the way that you want to purposely "forget" a jacket; not so that he'll give you his but so that you can snuggle up to him, and touch him and combine his heat to your own, and be "one" in one of the only ways you can.
His expressions are like an ever-changing art gallery; beautiful in every frame as well as unique. He doesn't notice them, but everyone at the gallery sure does, admiring every new piece of art presented to them. His eyebrows could narrow, or furrow; his eyes could be half-closed or wide open or looking far elsewhere, his nose could be pointed up at something he doesn't quite like; his lips could be parted or puckered or in a half smirk; and yet, no matter the combination of these movements it seems the art gallery will never stop selling tickets.
He is perfect in every way, and i am not. But, i can notice his perfectness and admire him for a life time. And though i may not be perfect, i am always a bit closer to it when im with him.
<3 <3
