You.
You're wonderful.
Your hair, your eyes, your lips, your everything. All of your body makes mine sing in a way no other does. You ring out, and I respond in kind whenever that happens, whether it's good or bad.
Bad and I want to hold and cuddle you and comfort you and tell you I love you a million times until you feel better.
Good and I'm happier than I ever am, my heart soaring along with yours and storing the sparkles in your eyes and the sweet curve of your lips for those other days.
You're the best, and I'll fight anyone that disputes this. Come at me with a hurtful word about my beloved and it riles me up, makes me furious and turns me into a protective beast. I'd get in trouble for you, break the rules to keep you warm and safe in every way.
If you make a mistake, I'll acknowledge it, but this doesn't mean you're a villain. Everyone screws up at one point or another. We lie, we cheat, we drink or we eat too much... among other things. People aren't perfect, and though I think you're <i>my</i> kind of perfect, I know you're not a deity.
You're you, and that's better.
And you're mine, and that's all I could ever really want you to be. Whatever else you accomplish is just a bonus.
I love you.
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