He tasted expensive- his lips of royal milk and his mouth of premium nectar. His mind was an enigmatic solution that only I could comprehend. He wasn't my other half. He was more. A cluster of white sentiments scattered on a cerulean ribbon which tied us both could only describe us.
I was impulsive and emotional as a hidden rational, but he kept me focused. It was perfect. We are perfect.
I don't believe that the stars systematically aligned for us, or that we were made for each other though. That philosophy was debunked in middle school when a boy with nice hair broke me.
Surprisingly, here I am unscathed with you- you're making me believe false theories.
365 days and counting, and I am still enamored by you.