When I first met you I was 16,
just another rebellious teen, in a world full of them.
That wasn't what attracted you to me.
You told me my eyes weren't the most beautiful color you'd ever seen but that they held the most beautiful gaze
they looked at people and the world in the most mesmerizing way.
You believed I could control people with just the look of an eye.
You told me you've seen lots of dark haired girls, but none of them made you feel the urge to touch their locks of hair, the way you now always touch mine.
You love how my skin changes color in different seasons, how I'm pale in winter but a "golden goddess," as you always say, in summer.
I've never seen myself as perfect.
I always thought of my flaws like they were words written in ink, and that I always did whatever I could to scratch them out and rewrite them.
But I learned to love those flaws,
because you taught me that our imperfections are part of the reason we fall in love.
And when I fell in love with you, I learned to love myself better.
