There’s just something about her that takes my heart and makes it beat to the same cadence as the wings of a hovering hummingbird.
Maybe it’s her eyes, captivating mine and holding them hostage in a way that resembles therapy rather than torture. Those eyes with the wing-tipped eyeliner were the first aspect of her being that I ever noticed, and they penetrated past the depths of my soul and took my heart for flight. My heart is soaring to this day, constantly trying to escape by flying from my mouth. I have to choke it back down before it escapes with the phrase “I love you”.
It could be her smile, weakening all my defenses and leaving me permeable. The dimples in her cheeks act as craters only visible when comets of contentment and jubilation come into her atmosphere. I’d give anything to come into her atmosphere in that fashion, flaming and prominent, but I’m a pebble of familiarity whose flame fizzled with past excitement.
Her body was a map I studied meticulously, imagining all of the unexplored terrain becoming a series of return destinations. I was an explorer plagued with cowardice accompanied by an infinitesimal amount of audaciousness. With the world at my fingertips I had a loose grip and sweaty palms.
Her lips were luscious and as alluring as her eyes with a magnetic force that kept drawing my own lips closer. I am no artist; I have no resemblance of a steady hand, but being drawn to her was my magnum opus because the path to her lips was the straightest line I had ever accomplished.
The beauty she possessed left me completely enamored of her. It was so breathtaking that I still gasp for air in its presence years later.