She asks me how…

She asks how she is beautiful, and I cannot answer.
How can one tell a sunset which colors to use to paint the sky?
Some things just are designed to be beautiful, to glow with luminoscity their spirit demands of the world.
We as mortals only can fail to put words to the beauty with which we are blessed.

I could tell her it is her eyes, and how they express her innermost thoughts and feelings as if they were ink on a page,
or her smile and the delicate curve of her lip as she graces me with a smile,
or of the swell of her breast, or of the curve of her hips, or of the hundred of other things that are but a fraction of what makes her beautiful.

Because what makes her beautiful, is who she is.
Something so simple to explain something so complex.

She is so outstandingly beautiful because she is who she is.

Her beauty is not constrained by physical limits, but transcends into the ether, creating warmth and love to those lucky few she deems worthy of it.

Her beauty is beyond words.


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