Defending his title

Trying to make you see how you are simply more than a meager "cute" is nearly impossible. I evnision myself defending your "sexy" title in a loud, incoherent ramble of compliments. I study your face for hours. Each curve, each line is precious. The curl of your nose as it rolls to meet the tip, I feel the need to kiss. From the tip it follows up the smooth bridge, leading to the diamonds of your face. The unbelievably sexy and pure eyes blink at me with dark curled lashes and again I have to kiss you. Back down your nose and I slide through the shallow-empty puddle above your lips. And your lips... make me melt. Shaped as a cushion to protect the treasures behind them. A row of pearls, meant only for nibbles and hot pockets of course. And still lurking behind this is a pink bubble meant for tickles; gorgeous tickles. Your mouth is so sensual. Your jaw, your prickled chin, your ears, hair. Each piece I have set aside from the rest, countless times, to admire. It's all YOU. It could not belong to anyone else. Your hands, your fingers, your skin. The hair above your belly-button. You are beyond cuddle-worthy. The safety I feel wrapped inside you. With my head nestled in the hollow beneath your shoulder. It's all you... I know you. And I know your expressions and your voice. And I know what hurts you and what makes you laugh. You are adorable. But you are sexy, smart, talented, and... I would not change you, love.