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Your thick hazel hair: the sides of which you chopped with a portable paper-knife:

you called this act of yours immature, but I find myself thinking about it at least five times a day,

grinning till my face muscles frown compelling me to stop.

 

Celestial orbs that are so fierce, no man ever dared to gawk at them:

the moment you lower your head to continue typing your assignment, I only manage to quickly gulp the right side of your perfect visage to nurture my dainty heart,

but when you look up to sip water, that's the only time I get to see those exquisite buttons clearly, God himself must have adored them after carving.

 

The unrivalled, unreal, charitable spirit that keeps forgetting about her harrowing past, that keeps exonerating each fleshy thorn that pricked:

I'm tired of seeing you forgive and forget,

your tongue is still not tired of reiterating, “each one of us is struggling, we shouldn't keep grudges against each other”.

 

When will I get to tell you, everything about you offers me reasons to love you: in a more desperate and wild manner!