Inkstains, words written across my heart, leaking out through my fingers. Beauty, is one of them. Awe, is another.
Do you know, love of my heart, do you know that I am in awe of you? Not as a mortal quakes before a goddess, but awe, awe all the same. Wonder, at your loveliness, and swelling within my heart, at the sheer irresistible beauty of the one I deserve. Your beauty, the beauty of your form and face and of your heart and soul, draw me in with words I cannot describe. Your lovely face and your beautiful soul, your fair skin and your fae heart, each pair, each part of you, draws springs from my heart, longing for the feel of your touch and the touch of your heart.
Love of my heart, do you know, how utterly, how elementally beautiful you are? How utterly perfect you are? How in every way of you, every piece that makes up you, you are what I desire from the depths of my soul, my complement, my soulmate. Do you know, that from sheer and utter adoration I could kiss your feet, I could cover your feet with the caresses of my lips for no other reason than to show you that every part of you is unspeakably beautiful.
Know, love of my heart, know that all these things are true, know that the words come from the deepest and truest depths of me. Know, love of my heart, that there is no other meaning to what I say, that these words are the bare and beautiful truth. Know, love of my heart, that I will chase your heart, and give you the adoration of my own heart, and my lips and touch. Know, love of my heart, that you are the beauty that is my desire.