She was like an angel. To others she may be called ugly, but to him, she was a pure, beautiful, and glowing angel. 

From the black lock and curls on her head, to the electric blue eyes popping out from the smooth and tan skin, to that slim waist that needs show health, and not a need to be a sculpture she designs and desires according to her ideals. To her strong legs and light feet that could make her jump over mountains.

He loved it all.
And she doubted it. God, she doubted it more than anything. How could she be beautiful?

Well, she was, she is. Even now as she lays in bed, her once raven curls now thin, resembling a shade of grey, a faded black. Even now as her hands lay calm and unmoving, wrinkly but gentle and graceful. Even now as her frail little body lies in her little old bed. In their little old bed. Even now, he thinks she's the most beautiful woman in all of existence.

He'll always tell her. And she'll just smile.. and blush. Over the time span of 70 years in marriage, she's learn to accept her husband's never ending admiration for her beauty. 
Inside, and out.

God, he could listen to her talk for hours, he could kiss her for hours, he could stare at her for hours, he could explore her beautiful mind for hours, he could watch her dance for hours, and he could love her for centuries and eras.

And he'll die with her, and stay in heaven with her for centuries and eras.

Once two smooth, attractive, and young hands held one another, and now two wrinkly, calloused, and loving old hands hold one another.

".. You're beautiful." A once young man's voice rings out. Now old, croaky, and affectionate.

"And Im in love with you." She replies. She'll always reply. She cant help but reply and she cant help but be in love with him. 

And neither of them can help but when they close their eyes together. And the closure of a long happy life together is fulfilled.